Invincible
by The Last Letter
Summary: Despite all that has happened to her in Amity Park (namely, getting her heart shattered by Daniel Fenton) Sam has agreed to return to the town for the month of August. Determined to make the best of it, Sam gets involved with someone in new and begins to enjoy being in Amity. But, after an ordinary evening, Sam finds herself kidnapped, a plot device in a scheme no one saw coming.
1. Chapter 1

**Quick note!**

**This story is a part of a series with several parts. Here are the parts listed in chronological order (**_**not**_** the order they were published in).**

**Heart Of A Child (one-shot; complete)**

**Reflections/Wonderwall (are companions, can be read in either order. Multi-chapter; complete)**

**Better Than Me (one-shot; complete)**

**Invincible (multi-chapter; incomplete)**

**Happy reading, my beloveds!**

I felt slightly exhausted from driving all day but I was determined to reach my destination. Though, why I was determined to reach Amity Park, I couldn't quite tell you. Perhaps it was because I was sick of the inside of my car, and even Amity Park was preferable to spending another hour driving. Yet, as I took the road toward the town, I was starting rethink that statement.

I had thought that I would be able to distance myself from what had occurred here. I thought that I could be the dutiful daughter – for once in my life, anyhow – and return home for the month of August to see my parents. After all, I would be heading to university in a matter of weeks and, though my high school experience was less than great (to say the least), the fact of the matter was that I am a very nostalgic person and the whole 'it's a new chapter' line actually got to me. I thought a lot of things as I packed up my life in New Orleans and prepared to return to Amity.

As it turned out, none of those things were true.

In New Orleans, I had a life. I had friends. I finally had the life that I had often envied. I hadn't been completely able to forget what had happened in Amity Park, but I had come close. There had been moments, right as I woke from sleep but before I opened my eyes, I had completely forgotten. I forgot that my heart was broken; I forgot that for months now, every breath had ached and I didn't anticipate it stopping any time soon. I forgot that wonderful night – the only one in my life where I had felt truly loved, truly safe – followed by the most horrible one I had ever experienced.

And, considering my experiences, I was truly saying something.

I shook my head. I was not in Amity to dwell – though I knew myself well enough to be aware that was exactly what I would end up doing – I was in Amity to reconnect with my parents and bridge the gap I had created between us just over a year ago. It was hard – despite the fact that I was their offspring, I couldn't be more different from the two of them – but we were doing better. Before I had returned to New Orleans several months ago, my mother and I had a functioning relationship and my father and I had found a mutual understanding.

I took the road that skirted the town rather than the road that cut through it. Though the drive through Amity was faster, it also passed by Fenton Works. I wasn't quite ready to throw myself face to face with _that_ particular memory – having it on constant repeat in my head was enough pain, thank you very much.

And suddenly, I was looking at my house. I parked my car and was seized by the urge to run inside and wrap my arms around my parents. I often took on a mature role, and though I liked to think of myself as able to handle things, the fact of the matter was that I had just turned 18. I was still young; still a child. And I could be 110 years of age – that didn't make me any less of a child to them; didn't make me any less their child.

I had just opened my car door when my mother appeared at the front door. She looked like she always did: her blonde hair was perfectly styled, piled on her head in a classic look; her make-up was perfectly applied (she'd been wearing the same red lipstick since I was a child – I couldn't imagine her without it); and a bright skirt suit, topped off with high heels.

"Sammy!" She shrieked. "Sammy, baby."

I was so happy to see her again that I was willing to overlook the fact that she had called me Sammy.

"Mother," I breathed, hurtling out of the car and into her open arms.

It's funny. You don't realize how much you miss someone until they're right in front of you. I had texted, called, e-mailed, video chatted, and used almost every other means of electronic communication to talk to her while I was gone and I hadn't thought I'd missed her. But there is nothing in this world that can replace a mother's arms around you; the smell of the perfume you grew up with; even the annoying childhood nicknames that still make you frustrated.

"I missed you, baby," she cooed, rocking me back and forth.

"I missed you, too."

I looked up from over Mother's shoulders as I heard approaching footsteps. Dad was looking at me, holding his arms open slightly. I swallowed. My father and I hadn't had the best relationship before I moved to New Orleans but, somehow, we were managing to patch things up. I felt like my father was finally accepting me for the person I was, and not for the person he had always thought of me as being.

"Hi, Sam, welcome home," Dad greeted.

"Dad," I replied, giving him a swift hug.

Mother wrapped her arm around my shoulders. "I know it's late, baby, but I was wondering if you were hungry."

"Yeah, a little," I nodded. "I didn't really want to stop for anything."

"Car keys," Dad prompted before Mother could say anything else, "I'll get your bags."

I dropped my keys into his palm.

Mother resumed speaking, "Well I made up some wraps for you, anticipating such a thing. I even put extra mushrooms on them – just the way you like it!"

"Thanks," I murmured, suppressing a yawn.

"It was my pleasure," Mother beamed and steered me into the kitchen.

(-.-)

I stared up at the ceiling of my old bedroom. I tried not to think about who I had last been with in this room; who else had lain beside me in this bed, chilled arms cuddling and holding me close. It, however, was proving impossible to keep my thoughts from steering in that direction.

I closed my eyes and his face immediately appeared to me. Snow white hair; gleaming green eyes; gloved hands pulling me toward him; pale lips that spoke _'I love you'_ which turned out to be nothing but empty words. And with that, the face changed. Black hair; blue eyes of ice; hands wrapped around the waist of a beauty queen; pale lips that hurled insults at me like daggers.

Two faces; one person.

I still couldn't wrap my head around it but I couldn't deny the truth, or the pain, of Daniel Fenton's dual lives.

I reached for my cell phone, bringing up a new message.

_ Me: Hey, are you up?_

I didn't have to wait long for Tucker's reply.

_Tucker: No rest for the wicked I'm afraid._

_ Me: wicked hmm? Am I interrupting something? ;)_

_ Tucker: Gross! No!_

_ Me: why is that gross?_

_Tucker: …cause_

_ Me: I'm missing something_

_ Tucker: cause of who I'm with. I don't swing that way_

_ Me: Fair enough_

_ Tucker: so why are you up at nearly 2 in the morning?_

_ Me: No rest for the wicked_

_ Tucker: Touché_

_ Me: but really, it's so weird being here again_

_ Tucker: oh. Are you back now?_

_ Me: uh yeah. Got here like 2 hours ago._

_ Tucker: oooh yeah I bet it's weird_

_ Me: totally_

_ Tucker: can I ask u something?_

_ Me: you just did_

_ Tucker: can I do so without you getting mad?_

_ Me: should I be worried?_

_ Tucker: it's a free country_

_ Me: just ask_

_ Tucker: …..I have never asked you about Danny._

My heart caught in my throat as I stared at my phone. No, Tucker had never asked me about Fenton/Phantom. I'd thought it was because Tucker understood that I didn't want to talk about it; that just thinking about him (though I never could free my mind from him) hurt. I thought Tucker understood that I was in pain and that's why he never asked. But I couldn't blame him for being curious; he and Fenton were best friends. I had no doubt that Tucker knew Fenton's side. And, if I were to talk to anyone about this, it would have to be Tucker – there was no one else in this world that would know what I was talking about.

And besides, talking was supposed to make it better, right?

_Me: that's not a question_

_ Tucker: do you hate him?_

_ Me: Yes_

_ Tucker: harsh_

_ Me: he deserves it_

_ Tucker: not arguing there. He's an ass_

_ Me: amen_

_ Tucker: will you ever forgive him?_

Something clicked right there. When I had first texted Tucker, he wouldn't tell me who he was with. And now, after months of talking, he suddenly wanted to discuss my feelings toward Fenton? I was suspicious.

_Me: are you with him?_

_ Tucker: yes_

_ Me: k_

_ Tucker: that doesn't mean we can't text if you want to._

_ Me: no. I should go to bed._

_ Tucker: if you ever want to talk I will listen_

_ Me: I really don't. I just want to forget he exists._

_ Tucker: I don't blame you._

I turned off my phone, placing it on my bedside table. My heart was hammering in my chest, like I had just decided to run a marathon. That was the closest I had been to talking to Fenton in months. I didn't want him to have any kind of effect on me, but I couldn't deny that he did. He probably always would.

I punched my pillow in a fit of rage. I was angry. How dare he still be able to play on my emotions? How dare even his name make me flinch? And how dare he ask (because I knew with certainty those questions weren't coming directly from Tucker) if I would ever forgive him?

He didn't deserve forgiveness. He never would.

You can't forgive the first person to shatter your heart.

I'd been hurt before. There was no way in hell that I could deny being hurt before. When I had first met Phantom (or, you know, Fenton in disguise) my heart had been cracked and wounded in certain places, but I hadn't been broken. I had hit rock bottom and had, somehow, managed to pick myself back up. I had been to the breaking point and had been able to back myself away from the cliff. I had been healing and then he had the audacity to promise he loved me; to promise he would be there for me.

I guess I had the audacity to believe him.

And then he tore it away. He turned around – his soft green eyes that I adored – flipping to a terrible shade of blue. The shade of blue that belong to Daniel Fenton, who had been tearing me down since I had met him; Daniel Fenton, golden boy of Casper school and superstar boyfriend of Paullina Sanchez – my main female tormentor at that school. Together, with their entourage, they had made my life at Casper miserable. I hated Fenton and he hated me in return.

But it turned out the Phantom who loved me and the Fenton who tortured me were the same person.

And after that had been revealed, I hadn't been the same.

I took my comforter from my bed and went out onto my balcony. I wrapped the blanket around me and settled back against the wall of my house. I stared at the night sky and let my mind wander. I went back to a year ago, just as we were moving into this house. I had been ready for my new beginning; ready to keep my head down and invisible as I finished my last year of high school and moved onto the rest of my life.

I posed this question to myself: if I had known what was coming – who was lying in wait for me – would I still have gone into Casper High?

It was a question I didn't want to answer.

**Oh! And if someone wonderful would like to draw a pic for this story, I would be extremely grateful. Maybe Sam's silhouette or something? **

**I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my betas: forever sky.**

**~TLL~**


	2. Chapter 2

I crawled out of bed late the next morning. Who could have guessed that sitting in a car for hours could be so utterly exhausting? I headed downstairs to the kitchen, stomach growling all the while. I leaned on the island and debated in my head – toast with peanut butter or cereal and strawberries. My stomach groaned.

Perhaps both.

I began preparing my meal, trying to be as quiet as I could manage. I could hear Dad, a few rooms over, talking to someone – probably a virtual business meeting. I had just slid into a seat at the island, taking a bite of my perfectly toasted bread, when my mother burst in.

"Great! You're awake!" She gushed. "I was afraid you'd died in your sleep!" She laughed at herself.

"Still in one piece," I muttered.

"Clearly." Mother hefted an eyebrow. "Now, darling, I have something to ask and I need you to hear me out before you say no."

"Oh no," I sighed. "If you're already anticipating the fact that I'll say no, why are you bothering to ask in the first place?"

"Because you are my loving daughter who has come to see me for the summer before running off to school, and I would like to spend as much time with you as possible before that happens." Mother studied me.

To me, it sounded like the beginning of a guilt-trip. One that I was probably destined to fall for.

"And where do you want to spend time together?" I inquired.

"There's a party," Mother began slowly.

"A party?" I repeated blandly.

"Yes," Mother smiled encouragingly.

"At the Sanchez's?" I asked.

Mother shook her head. "After Paullina's slight … breakdown at the last gathering, the Sanchez's have rather faded from the social scene."

"Oh."

"It's at the Orien's," Mother named a family I hadn't heard of.

"Uh-huh."

"Well, their summer cottage."

"Right."

"A lot of teenagers will be there."

"I hope they'll have a lovely time."

Mother met my eyes. "Samantha."

"Yes, Mother?"

"Will you please come to the party with me and your father?"

I was reluctant to do such a thing.

Mother must have seen that written on my face. "Will you be willing to compromise?"

"What's the compromise?"

"What if you took your own car and were only required to stay a minimum of an hour?"

I tapped my fingers on the table top, thinking it over. I dreaded my mother's social events. My entire life, I had been an outcast. She had tried, and ultimately failed, to force me to be friends with her friends' children. I had been very young when I had started making up excuses to get out of the parties, but they had always failed.

I sighed deeply. "One hour."

Mother grinned. "_And_," she added precociously. "I get to dress you."

I focused on my toast. It was much easier not to answer her – she was just going to do whatever she wanted anyhow.

"It'll be casual; summery!" Mother chirped. "I'll go lay it out for you right now!"

As she darted away, up the stairs to my room, I chewed my food as slowly as possible, trying to avoid seeing the outfit for as long as possible. Our styles often clashed and I could only hope that Mother was taking my personal preferences to mind, but I highly doubted it. She hadn't done so in the past (though we had come up with a list of 'compromise colours' that she was good at sticking to) and there was no reason to think she would begin to do so now.

The moment finally came when I had no food left to eat, so the only thing I could do was put my dishes in the sink and go see my Mother.

She was still buzzing about my room. Most of my dresses and fancier clothing had been left behind when I had gone to New Orleans. I knew I wouldn't be participating in the upscale society life when I went back and though I loved my skirts, I, oddly, was not as fond of dresses. However Mother lived for dresses and pearls; in the end, that's what I always ended up wearing when she took control.

"I found the perfect thing!" Mother gushed when she heard me arrive. "And you can even wear flip-flops with it!"

Mother was willing to put me in flip-flops? I was truly enjoying this compromising thing.

"Okay, let's see it."

Mother swung around to face me, displaying her dress of choice across her body. And, honestly, it wasn't what I thought it would be. I actually, kind of, loved it. She must have gone shopping for me when I had agreed to come see her because I knew I'd never seen the dress before.

It was a halter dress, one that would probably come to my knees when I donned it. There was a thick black band around the center of the dress, along the bottom of the dress (which was cut to be longer in the front and back but shorter on the sides), and along the tops of my breasts. In between, there was a delicate red swirling pattern – something Asian or that you would spot on a handkerchief. Either way, the dress was not uptight or fancy. Rather, it was something that I might have chosen for myself.

"Wow," I complimented. "It's amazing."

"I saw it in the stores last week and I thought I could talk you into wearing it instead of your usual skirt and t-shirt attire." Mother explained, laying it along the bed next to me.

I touched the material. _Silky_; even better.

"Yeah, it's great."

Mother smiled. "Get dressed, put on some make-up, and choose your shoes! The buffet starts at one and I want to be on time for that."

I smiled. "Of course."

She left the room.

I kicked off my shorts and tank top and put on undergarments. I reached for the dress, looking down at myself as I did so. I ran my fingers along my stomach, feeling my scars from my first, and only, ghost attack so long ago. It had become a bad habit of mine over the past several months: whenever I was lying around and doing nothing, my fingers would creep up to my stomach, rhythmically caressing my scars. And every time I did so, my mind would wander back to my rescue, to the very first time I saw _him_, and the inevitable breaking of my heart.

I tore my hand away from my skin and put on the dress. It, of course, fit like a glove. Mother knew my exact measurements and the woman was a force to be reckoned with when she was out shopping. Never in my life had I had a garment that was a little loose here or overly tight there – everything always fit me perfectly. It was as though she had a super power when it came to finding clothes.

I did my make-up. No eye shadow for me; I would probably just sweat it off in this heat. I put on light eyeliner and mascara, along with a clear lip gloss. I wasn't a show stopper, not by any means, but then again I never had been. And it wasn't as though I was trying to impress anyone. There would probably be more impressive teen girls there (_Paullina? _I wondered with a stab of worry. I didn't want to face the cruel girl again if I didn't have to) and no one would be looking at me anyway.

I gathered up my purse, slid my feet into flip-flops, and headed down the stairs once again to find my mother.

"You look wonderful," Mother grinned. But, as soon as I was within arm's reach, she was toying with my hair, wrapping it around her slim fingers. "Though I wish you had done something with your hair."

I fixed her with a look. "It is sweltering outside. Anything I would have done with my hair would have been pointless."

"Mmm," Mother agreed. "It's a pity you got your grandmother's hair. Hers could never be dealt with in warm temperatures outside."

"I _like_ my hair."

"I _like_ your hair too," Mother returned. "I just wish it were more reasonable."

"It goes with the rest of me," I replied, mouthy as always.

Mother was torn between being amused at the truth of my reply or vastly annoyed that I wasn't being perfectly compliant with her.

Before she had a chance to say anything, my father trotted down the stairs, calling out, "Are we ready to go, honey?"

"Just waiting on you, dear." Mother returned with a grin.

"Let's get going, then." Dad rubbed his stomach. "My belly's growling."

"Follow us closely, dear," Mother said as we loaded into separate vehicles. "Apparently it's a very isolated place and I don't want you getting lost on unfamiliar roads."

"I promise." I slammed my door shut and gestured for my father to head out.

The drive out to Orien family's summer cottage was boring. We immediately headed in the opposite direction of Amity Park and out through the woods. I loved nature, and usually, I loved enjoying the scenery. However, after passing identical trees for nearly forty minutes (and after my exhaustingly long drive only yesterday), I just wanted to arrive at the cottage, even if I weren't overly ecstatic at, once again, being thrown into my mother's social scene.

Finally, we arrived. Unfortunately, (for me, that is – Mother was probably delighting in the fact) there was already a large crowd gathered. It seemed to be a crowd of all ages: young; teenaged; middle-aged; old. I brightened at the sight of several senior citizens lounging in the sun. I'd always been able to connect to elderly people rather easily – probably because of my grandmother, to whom I was overly close with until she had passed away. Perhaps I would be able to strike up a conversation with one of them and not suffer out my mandated hour in silence.

I got out of my car, joining Mother and Dad at their sides. As I picked apart the crowd even further, I realized something that jolted me. This crowd was not exclusively the upscale social scene. Though the upscale parties were always overflowing with bodies, there was not a lot of variety in the faces that attended. Through my months in Amity, attending gatherings with Mother, I had gotten to the point where I could identify all the high class party-goers. This was not just the upscale crowd. These had people of all classes.

I smiled as I identified a small, familiar face hanging on the edge of the crowd. I slipped away from Mother, ending up by his side.

"Hello, Mikey."

"Sam!" He grinned in response. His voice had dropped considerably since we had last spoken. He wasn't even as small as he had once been. "I thought you left Amity!"

"I did. I'm just back for the month until I go to university."

"Oh cool. What are you going to study?"

"I'm going to be a design student," I said with confidence. Deciding what I had wanted to do with my life had been a struggle. I had been leaning heavily toward something environmental but none of the careers made me feel excited to continue it for the rest of my life. Though I knew it would be a statistical impossibility, I wanted to love my job. I had been talking to Leslie's mother, Anne, and after she had shown me her work. I had fallen for it instantly.

"Wow. I'm going for engineering."

"Dream big, right?" I joked.

"What else is there to do?" Mikey fired in return.

"Fair enough." I took the drink he offered me from the punch bowl. "So, how'd you end up at this lovely event?"

"It's my aunt and uncle's lovely event," Mikey explained.

"Ah."

"That's why all the freaks and geeks are here," Michael added.

I looked at him, questioningly.

"I know you were thinking it." Mikey shrugged. "My aunt and uncle love me – they were only able ever to have a girl – my cousin Starr – and I think they've always wanted a boy, so they always ask me to invite my friends and their parents. Besides, they're not as snobby as Starr and they enjoy all kinds of people."

"Starr is _your _cousin?" I blurted. "I never would have guessed."

"I know right?" Mikey laughed.

I stared out at the crowd, commenting, "It's nice for them to mingle. Maybe someday the privileged will stop acting privileged."

"I don't know." Mikey's gaze had suddenly wandered to the makeshift parking lot. "Once you start acting privileged, I don't think you ever come back."

Confused by the bitterness in his last sentence, I also glanced up to the parking lot. My heart stopped in my chest.

Coming down the path, to the cottage, was the damned Fenton family.

**Quick shoutout to The Writer's Notebook for making a cute little fanart over on DA! **

**I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my betas: Forever Sky.**

**~TLL~**


	3. Chapter 3

"He still an ass hat?" I asked Mikey, trying to keep my voice from shaking as I stared in the Fenton's direction.

Despite the fact that I wanted to turn my back on him, pretend that I hadn't even noticed his entrance, I couldn't help but stare. He had Jazz on his arm, swatting half-annoyed at his father, who was laughing loudly about something – Jazz looked annoyed with Jack as well, but Maddie was laughing along with her husband. He looked perfectly happy and, somehow, that twisted my insides.

He had destroyed me from the inside out and he had the nerve to be happy?

"'Course," Mikey grunted in response to my question. "Not as much though, so I guess some progress is better than no progress."

"Not as much?" I prompted.

Mikey shrugged. "Well, Tuck came back from the dark side and I guess Danny kinda followed him. I mean, he wasn't shunned by the popular people when he broke up with Paullina – I guess it's 'cause she went nuts and Dash disappeared so he's the leader now or something – so he still hangs out with them but he didn't bully _anyone_ all of second semester. I was kind of impressed."

"Huh," I murmured, not quite sure what to make of this information.

Instead, I leaned heavily on the balcony railing and watched as he made his way down to the dock – greeting Kwan with a loud exclamation.

I shook my head at myself and quickly derailed my train of thought, anticipating where it was leading to. I wasn't about to tumble down a path of 'what-ifs'.

"_Mikey_!" Came a shout, "and Sam!"

Mikey and I both turned at the same time to see Tucker come out of the sliding balcony doors, smiling brightly at the two of us.

"Mike, I know it's your family thing but Sam, how in the hell did you end up here?"

"Mother loves her social events," I grumbled, though with a smile. I gladly accepted his hug when he offered one. "You?"

"Can't really pass up a party," Tucker smiled. "Also Danny wanted me to come in case Kwan didn't show."

I flinched at the name and he pretended not to notice.

"They're both down at the dock," Mikey supplied helpfully.

"Awesome," Tucker said with a nod. "_But_, I hear they're serving the buffet as we speak and you know my motto – friends are good; food is better."

I laughed. "How do you have friends at all?" I joked.

He fixed me with a look. "My charm, of course."

"Of course," I said with an eye roll.

"Come on," Mikey said, hustling us back inside. "We'll get first chance at the food."

"_Good_," I drawled. "As an ultra-recyclo vegetarian, it's hard enough finding food let alone searching after a hundred other people have gotten theirs."

"Vegetarians," Tucker groaned with a shake of his head.

"Well a meat-atarian isn't a real thing!" I exclaimed back at him, bringing up one of our old text conversations.

"A person can't live off of _grass_," Tucker scorned me.

I snorted. "Then it's a really good thing I don't eat grass!"

Tucker dramatically rolled his eyes at me, although he had no rebuttal. I grinned smugly at him as we made our way to the food line – Mikey leading the way.

"You're in luck, Sam," Mikey called back to me.

"Why?"

"My aunt is a vegetarian. You'll have a lot of choices."

"For once!" I exclaimed happily, taking a spoonful of the seaweed salad I immediately spotted.

Tucker, who saw me take it, pretended to retch. "That smells disg-_intense_," he said, changing his word choice at the last moment, probably so he wouldn't offend me.

"It just makes me more excited to eat it," I retorted, though I agreed with his second word choice. The smell of the sesame oil that was in the seaweed salad was definitely intense.

With food piled high on our plates, we sat down to eat.

"So, Sam," Tucker said through the leg of a turkey, "What are you plans, now that you're back in Amity?"

I shrugged. "I'll probably just be spending a lot of time with my parents … And the two of you, of course," I laughed.

"No summer romances?" Tucker asked.

I shot him a look.

"Not like … _that_," Tucker explained, tone apologetic. "I just … I want to see you happy."

"That's sweet of you, but I'm not unhappy, Tucker. And I don't need a guy in order for my life to be good. Besides," I added, "I'm going to university soon and there's bound to be hotter guys in New York than in Amity."

"Having never been guy scoping, let alone in New York, I can't really attest to how hot they are," Tucker chuckled. "But good luck with that."

"Wait," Mikey interrupted. "Sam, what happened to your boyfriend?"

My heart began to sink in my chest at Mikey's innocent question. What had happened to him? He had turned out to being a lying bastard that didn't just break my heart; he had shattered it. I had spent the last few months of my life trying to put my pain behind me and I wasn't about to let my hurt leak out now. I forced a smile onto my face.

"It just didn't work out," I replied simply. "You know how those things are."

"That sucks," Mikey commented. "Whenever you talked about him to me, you really seemed to love him."

I averted my eyes. "I did," I admitted, my honesty making my flare of pain that much more raw, "but sometimes you love people more than they love you."

"That _really_ sucks," Mikey enunciated. "Ah well. There's better people than him out there, right?"

I put in a lot of effort into smiling at him. "For sure," I lifted my glass of lemonade. "Cheers to that!"

Mikey clinked his glass against mine but it didn't escape my notice that Tucker didn't. Sometimes I forgot how close Fenton and Tucker were; they were best friends, practically brothers, from the way Tucker described their relationship. I liked talking to Tucker; I liked having him as a friend. I didn't want to push him away just because I would make a snide comment about Fenton from time to time (though I tried not to mention him at all) but I couldn't help how I felt about Fenton just like he couldn't help how he felt about Fenton.

I took a sip of my lemonade and, over the top of the glass, I saw Fenton. He was just entering the dining room with a plate of food clutched in his hand. I knew, without a doubt, that the moment he saw Tucker that he would head to our table. So, I did the only logical thing left for me to do.

I jumped to my feet, blurted, "I have to pee," and headed down the hallway that Mikey silently pointed me toward. Heart hammering, I shuffled down the hallway, taking a left when I saw a sink. I slammed the door shut behind me, locking it for good measure. I took a deep breath and put my hands down on the sink counter to steady myself.

I was _never_ going to get used to being around him again. He hadn't even been within ten feet of me and I started panicking and hyperventilating! If Mother insisted on dragging me to social events this summer, I was going to die. I was just seriously going to keel over and die from the sheer stress of it all. I didn't want Fenton to be able to affect me in any way, shape, or form but, unfortunately, he did affect me. He'd hurt me and, as much as I wanted to claim that I was okay, I knew that I wasn't. I knew that I was still trying to put my broken heart back together. He had lied to me about every aspect of who he was and I'd been foolish enough to buy it. You just don't get over being deceived by the first person you loved.

Despite the fact that I couldn't just push it to the side and make it go away, I still couldn't let what he had done to me run my life. I couldn't go running from a table of friends every time that he popped into the room because Amity Park was a small town, I was going to see him whether or I wanted to or not. Not to mention the fact that he was friendly with the people I was friendly with. I wasn't going to go out of my way to talk to him but I was going to have to get a grip on myself and figure out how to deal with being in the same room.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror and asked myself if I were going to be able to stick to that resolution. Was I going to be able to see Fenton and not be struck with the pain of that night in January when he told me the truth of his dual identities? Honestly, I doubted it. I shouldn't have to feel pain when I was just trying to spend a quiet month with my family before I went to university but I did, and it was all because of him.

Finally, I just splashed some water on my face and said to heck with it all. I'd figure things out as they came around but, one thing was for certain, I would _not_ consent to speak one word to the filth that was Daniel Fenton.

Feeling somewhat better, I left the washroom.

And immediately crashed into someone.

In the quick shuffle of bodies to get ourselves sorted out, I only saw a few flashes of the stranger: white hair, green eyes, long limbs. For a moment, I thought that it was Fenton, turned into Phantom, come to haunt me. But when the stranger and I had ourselves sorted out, I took a properly look at him and realized that he actually looked nothing like Fenton/Phantom at all. Yes, he had green eyes and white hair but the white looked more of a pale blond than stark white and the green was more of a pea shade than that of a glow stick. He was also taller and thinner with a longer face.

"Sorry about that," he drawled in an accident I didn't recognize. "Are you all right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, sorry. That was my fault. I was a little … preoccupied."

"Not a boy I hope," the stranger said instantly.

I frowned at him. "Why?"

Why would he care if I was thinking about a boy or not? I mean, I _was_ but it hardly seemed something that a literal stranger would care about.

"Because," the stranger explained, "after I learn your name I think I'm going to ask you out on a date."

My jaw dropped. "You … what? We _just_ met."

The stranger grinned at me and it was captivating.

"I know, but that makes it more fun, doesn't it? Besides, you're a beautiful girl and something tells me that you're an interesting girl."

I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. "You don't know anything about me."

He shrugged. "That's fair." He stepped off to the side of the hallway and I went to walk by him.

I had just passed him when he said something that made me turn around and look at him again.

"To be fair," the stranger called, "you don't know anything about me either."

I sized him up again.

"So tell me something," I challenged.

"I'm from Hungary."

"Too simple," I dismissed and raised the stakes. "Tell me something personal."

"I still sleep with my stuffed rabbit," the stranger revealed. "My grandma made it for me the day I was born. I've never spent a night without it."

The mention of his grandmother made a piece of my heart melt; grandmothers always did. I had lost my Grandma Manson not too long ago and I missed her with every day that passed. She was a special person in my life, the one thing that I could turn to when I had nothing else – not even parents. When she had died, I'd been a complete wreck.

"I'm Sam," I finally told him.

"I'm Gregor … Would you like to go out with me?"

**I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my betas: Forever Sky.**

**~TLL~**


	4. Chapter 4

Impressed by his gall, I stared at the stranger, Gregor, for a long minute. But, there was something about his forthrightness that was appealing.

"I get it," he said after a minute, his confidence clearly wavering, "I'm a stranger and your parents told you not to talk to strangers, but we introduced ourselves. We're not strangers anymore."

I raised my eyebrows to invite him to keep talking.

"And, I'll tell you exactly what my plans are for our date … if you decide to go with me, that is. I would pick you up at six. I'd have flowers for you and flowers for your mother. I'd be a gentleman and shake hands with your father and assure him that you would be safe. Then I would take you out to the car and I would hold open your door for you while you got in. As we drive away, I would explain to you that I picked out Flora's restaurant because they have a wide range of vegetarian and non-vegetarian options, which is a requirement for me as a vegetarian. We'll get there and I will hold all of the doors open for you. I will show you your seat and pull out your chair. I will be charming and engaging as a dinner companion. Afterward, I will take you to a beautiful spot to sightsee that I have discovered in my month and a half in Amity. We will sit there and look at the sky, and we don't have to do anything more than appreciate its beauty." Gregor's eyes seemed to grow brighter as he added, "Of course, I wouldn't be a proper gentleman if I did that, however."

"No?" I questioned. I'd been swept away just by his description.

"No, because to be a proper gentleman I would make sure that it was an evening that _you_ would enjoy as well. So, I'm going to ask you now, Sam, what would _you_ like to do on our evening out together?"

For a moment, I thought about being offended that he'd already assumed that I was going with him. Then I realized that he was right; I was going to go on this date. There was absolutely no reason for me not to. I was a single girl with no attachments that would hold me back from having a night or two of fun.

I smiled at him and, instead of coming up with a completely new itinerary, I just augmented his pre-existing plans.

"I like lilies. My mother has a fondness for daisies. Be respectful to my father but keep in mind that I am in control of my own life and he does not own me. Opening car doors is nice but don't think it's a necessity all of the time; I _am_ a big girl. I'm an ultra-recyclo vegetarian and I appreciate that you eat the same way that I do. I don't want to sit and stare at the stars. Perhaps we can find something a bit more exciting to do," I finished. Sitting and staring at the stars reminded me of long hours spent on my roof, wrapped tightly in the arms of Phantom.

Gregor smiled. "Any suggestions for something more exciting?" He asked.

"No. You've done a good job with planning so far, I trust you with this."

"Trust is important," Gregor agreed, then he took a step toward me. "May I see your cell phone?"

I pulled it out and tapped the screen a few times to bring up the window to enter a new contact. Then, I handed the device over and watched as Gregor entered his number and sent himself a message from my phone so that he would have my number.

"Perfect," he said with a grin. "Now, the only thing left for me to ask is when may I see you?"

I blushed, despite myself. Here was a polite, cute guy asking me out; a guy who had no secrets or ulterior motives; a guy who wouldn't hurt me in the end. In my time in New Orleans, I'd never focused on boys because, well, I was still reeling from my last break-up and because I was trying to recover myself as a person. Upon returning to Amity, I still hadn't expected to encounter a date but here was Gregor, looking at me so sweetly and innocently. It was hard not to be slightly smitten with him.

"The day after tomorrow," I replied.

"Six?" Gregor asked, and I nodded in response.

"I'll be waiting," I said, dry-mouthed as I turned my back on him and practically skipped down the hallway.

Was I nervous about going out on a date? Hell yes. I had never been on a real date. Before Phantom had stepped into my life, I'd never so much as held hands with a member of the opposite sex! As Phantom had told me that he was dead, and on top of that being the infamous protector of Amity, I couldn't exactly be seen in public with him. I had no experience in this field. All I had for help were my books and I knew that they couldn't be relied upon; I'd used fictional romances as my basis for what would happen with Phantom and I knew that you couldn't expect real life to be like the written word. Despite the fact that I was sure I was going to be awkward on this date, I decided that I wasn't going to care. I was going to pretend like I was wearing the perfect dress, hopefully saying the right thing, so that Gregor wouldn't be able to tell that I was a head case.

I was kind of over feeling like I was a head case anyway.

"Wow," Tucker commented when I sighted him out on the deck. "Look at what the cat dragged in."

"Meow," I retorted, chuckling. "Where is … he?" I asked.

"He and Kwan are racing each other across the lake. Mikey went with them to referee," Tucker answered.

"Why didn't you go?" I asked.

Tucker glanced at me, green eyes secretive. I knew immediately why he hadn't gone down with the other boys.

"Secret lover?" I teased and he nodded. "Who?"

"I can't say," Tucker protested, his dark skin going red with a blush.

I leaned closer to him, like we were devising some kind of top secret conspiracy plan. "You can trust me, Tucker. Besides," I tacked on, "you knew all about my secret lover."

Tucker glared at me, though there was no negative emotion behind it. "_You_ didn't tell me about that, though. Besides, mine is worse."

I snorted, trying to keep making light of the situation I'd had with Phantom/Fenton. If I faked like I was over it, maybe I really would get over it.

"I slept with a guy I thought was dead. You're going to have to try really hard to one up me on that."

Tucker shrugged, fiddling with the bottom of his bright green t-shirt.

"You know I have a point," I pushed, my curiosity burning intensely.

In all of the time I'd been talking to Tucker, not once had he mentioned having a girlfriend. He'd never mentioned a crush, a hook-up, any sort of romantic entanglement that I could think of. I could think of no reason why he wouldn't talk about her, even vaguely, except, maybe that he was ashamed of her. But I couldn't see Tucker dating a girl that he was ashamed of. In fact, I was surprised at Tucker's secrecy. On more than one occasion, he'd implied how harsh he'd been on Fenton's secrecy and how he still hated it.

"Why the secret?" I asked, finally.

Tucker rubbed his jaw, sighed, and I knew that he was going to confide on me. I felt a thrill that he trusted me enough to tell me these things.

"She's older than me," he admitted.

"How much older?" I asked.

"Two years," he answered.

It wasn't what I'd been imagining when he said that she was older. I thought that Tucker was dating some woman twice his age and that was the reason for the secret. But two years older was no big deal. Tucker was eighteen which would make her twenty; college age. Immediately, I began to scope out the people around us. Tucker had already told me that she was at the party.

But the only person I could see that wasn't twenty-five plus or a teenager that I'd attended Casper High with was Jazz.

"Oh my god," I gasped aloud, realizing that I had unintentionally figured it out.

He was dating Jazz; his best friend's sister.

_Oh my god_.

"Jazz?" I whispered under my breath.

Tucker's blush deepened. "Maybe," he mumbled.

"It's cute," I told him.

"You think?" He questioned.

I nodded, though I couldn't imagine that it was a conventional relationship. Jazz was too, well, anal and Tucker was too much of a jokester. Still, I could see it. Tucker would help Jazz have fun and not be too focused on the serious aspect of life while Jazz would be able to make Tucker see that there was a more serious side of life. Either way, if they were able to have a healthy, functioning, relationship I was completely supportive of them doing it.

"I do," I answered. "I'm assuming the secrecy is because neither of you have told Fenton yet?"

Tucker shook his head, confirming my thoughts. "He's just … been torn up over the two of you and Jazz and I couldn't bring ourselves to tell him about us. We're going to, soon."

"Good luck with that," I told him.

"I'm going to need it," Tucker sighed. "Danny would kill for Jazz, no questions asked."

"Why am I killing for Jazz?" A familiar voice behind me rumbled.

I tensed, my body reading itself for flight or fight, and I forced myself to ignore both possible responses. I anchored myself to my spot on the deck. I was _not_ going to run away; I was _not_ going to act like a scared victim. Neither, though, would I fight him. I was going to stand here and ignore him. I was standing here for my friend Tucker and not the riff-raff that Tucker associated with.

Tucker turned, leaning his back against the deck railing. I echoed the action.

"Just sayin' how protective you are," Tucker answered, "You know, if Jazz was ever in trouble."

Fenton's blue eyes darted to his red-headed sister, who was seated with a blonde girl that I'd seen around the tutoring center with her.

"She's okay, though, right?"

Knowing him so well, though I'd like to pretend otherwise, I caught the genuine worry in his voice as he inspected Jazz for any sign that she was anything other than fine.

"Oh yeah," Tucker answered. "She's all right. We were speaking hypothetically."

"Big words," I muttered underneath my breath.

"Ass," Tucker accused, jamming his elbow into my ribs.

"Bite me," I snapped, shoving his arm away from my side and back to his.

"You're a kinky little thing, aren't you?" Tucker joked while I stood there, slack-jawed.

I had _never_ been accused of being kinky in my life. The fact that he did it front of the only guy I'd ever had sex with was worse.

"Whatever."

"So," Tucker said, his voice changing tones as well as topics, "Sam."

"Tucker."

"Why were you so happy when you showed up a minute ago?"

"Oh…" I mouthed.

I didn't really want to tell Tucker that I had a date – I'd just be opening myself up to teasing and criticism of the boy who'd asked me – and I _really_ didn't want to tell him with Fenton standing right there, even though I was pointedly not looking at him and ignoring his presence. Still, Tucker was staring at me expectantly and I just _knew_ that Fenton was doing the exact same thing.

"I kind of have … a date," I grumbled.

"Aw, how cute," Tucker said, patting me on the head.

I'd been staring at the ground but, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Fenton turn around and turn to walk away.

"Who?" Tucker asked.

"Gregor," I answered promptly, feeling better about talking about it since Fenton was leaving.

But, as soon as the name was out of my mouth, Fenton whirled around.

"Vlad Masters' nephew?" He exploded. "Sam! You fucking can't!"

**Let's just pretend this wasn't late, okay? Life has been kicking my ass lately and I'm sorry.**

**I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my betas: Forever Sky.**

**~TLL~**


	5. Chapter 5

"Excuse me?" I exclaimed, instantly angry. "Who the hell are you to tell me what I can or can't do?"

Fenton gaped at me for a moment, his cheeks turning bright red. Finally, he crossed his arms over his chest, and stared at me.

"I'm not telling you that you can't date," he said thinly, his voice breaking, "but you can't date Vlad Masters' nephew."

"That name doesn't mean anything to me," I retorted. "I don't care whose nephew he is. I am going on a date and it might turn into two! I might kiss him … I might do more. The point is that I don't care about what you say I should or shouldn't do."

"Sam! You don't understand."

"I don't _care_," I shouted at him.

"I'm just trying to protect you," Fenton argued.

"Because that worked out so well the last time you thought you were 'protecting me'." I put quotes around the words because he knew, as well as I did, that he had _never_ protected me. He had only ever protected himself. "It's not your job to protect me. As a matter of fact, you don't even have a role in my life."

"If you continue like this you might not –" He cut himself off, a look of horror coming over his face. "Sam, please give me a chance to make you understand. I need to talk to you."

"That sounds eerily familiar," I said calmly. Inside, I was shaking because of how close those words were to something he had said, on the worst few nights of my life. "Either way, it doesn't matter. This conversation is over. Goodbye."

I nodded quickly at Tucker and then turned on my heel to go. I had barely taken two steps when I felt a hand close around my bicep. There was a chill in the fingers that rested on my bare skin and I knew immediately who was touching me. For the briefest moment in time, there was a zap of remembrance that ran through my body. My skin remembered how he had caressed it; my lips recollected how he had kissed them; and my heart recalled how it had loved him. For that moment in time, I felt the overwhelming love that I had once had for him, real as it had once been.

Then, I crashed back down to earth.

I yanked out of Fenton's grip. I spun around to face him and – without even thinking about it – I drew my arm back and slapped him across the face.

"You," I hissed, "do _not_ touch me."

Fenton brought his hand up to his face but, before he could speak, someone else did.

"What's going on here?" Jazz glided up onto the deck, coming to my side rather than her brother's.

"I …" Fenton averted his gaze away from me and onto his sister's face.

"He was, I think, going to mention the thing about the Fruit Loop," Tucker piped up. "But I don't think he did it the right way."

Jazz shook her head at Danny, her long red hair hitting me in the arm. "Danny, let it be."

His eyes widened in shock. "Let it – Jazz! You _know_ –"

"I know," Jazz interrupted smoothly, "that you're bothering Sam. You need to leave her alone. She's not part of this."

"But-" he tried to protest however Jazz, much to my pleasure, once again shut him down.

"No buts. We can talk about this later but, right now, you're bothering her." She put her arm around my shoulders and I leaned into her. Jazz and I were about the same size but I felt comforted by her. Her voice softened when she spoke again to her brother, "I know how you're feeling. You can't hide it from me. I'm not the bad guy here … But it's how you're coming off. So I think you should go with Tucker for a bit whilst Sam and I have a little chat."

I thought Fenton was going to resist. Evidently, Tucker agreed with me because he grabbed Fenton by his forearm and towed him away, all before Fenton could think of something to say to me or Jazz. I watched them disappear from the deck and then Jazz was toting me inside the house, into the basement where it was nice and cool.

I settled onto the couch next to Jazz. She tucked her feet under her, leaned against the back of the couch and sighed.

Not wanting to talk about Fenton, but knowing that's where she was going, I blurted out the first thing I could think of.

"So, Tucker, huh?"

Jazz, who had been casually rolling her neck back and forth on her shoulders, suddenly went rigid. She gaped at me.

"He told you?" She shrieked.

"I guessed," I admitted. "I think it's cute, though!"

"Really?" Jazz gushed, her cheeks turning bright red. "Do you?"

I nodded, telling her again that I thought she and Tucker were cute together. "I just don't understand why you're being so secretive about the relationship. Tucker told me it was because of Fenton but he should be a living example that secrets lead to more trouble."

Jazz thought about it. "I know I can confide in you so I'm going to tell you something that I haven't even told Tucker."

I leaned toward her, curious.

"I'm a little embarrassed about it."

"Embarrassed?" I repeated. "Because of being with him?"

"Yes … no … yes … maybe," Jazz stuttered. Her cheeks became ruddier.

This was the first time I'd spoken to Jazz in months, really. She had messaged me a few times to see if I was doing all right, and I'd asked the same of her, but we hadn't had an in depth conversation since I'd left Amity Park. Perhaps I should have asked how she was doing before we launched into talking about her relationship … Ah well; conventions were a bore.

"Why would you be embarrassed of that?"

"He's my _little_ brother's best friend –"

"He's legal now," I pointed out with a grin.

"Sam Manson! That is not the type of comment I would expect from you!"

"Sorry," I said immediately, though her words struck a chord with me.

If I wasn't acting like expected, what was I acting like? The answer came to me instantly: I was acting like the new me. I had begun to heal into a different person – the person Jazz had yet to become acquainted with. It was strange to think that I had changed, but I was thrilled with it.

"But," I continued, "He's only two years younger than you. That's not a big deal."

"It's not because of his age," Jazz explained. "It's because he's been Danny's best friend since … goodness, I don't even know how long they've been best friends. As far back as I can remember; it's been Danny and Tucker at my house. I can remember them being gross little kids and immature teenagers together. Do you understand?"

"I think so. Let me ask this: at what point did you _stop_ thinking of Tucker as gross and immature?"

Jazz tilted her head to the side and ran her fingers through her long hair. "I don't know, exactly. I think it happened before I realized it happened. One day I had this moment of 'wow, I really like him' and it just hasn't stopped since."

"When did that moment happen?"

Knowing I would never get such details out of Tucker, I was even keener to hear what Jazz had to say.

"I ran into him one day, last winter. It was when he and Danny weren't speaking because of … you know. We ended up going to a café and talking. I'd never talked to Tucker like that before. Sure, we'd had conversations but they had never been so in depth or heartfelt. He spilled his heart out to me and I did the same. When we said goodbye, throughout my entire drive back to my campus, all I could think about was him. Even afterward, his presence never left my mind."

"Aww. That's so cute!" I gushed.

It was, admittedly, a little hard to hear about how Jazz's relationship was so great. I didn't begrudge her, or Tucker about the happiness they had found, but the fact of the matter was that she _had_ found someone wonderful and I had lost the one I had been in love with. Still, I smiled because it really was sweet.

"Yeah," Jazz agreed. "He is."

"But when did the two of you get together?"

"Oh. We had made plans to go out for coffee again. When we were done, I drove him home. When I had parked in front of his house, he just leaned over and kissed me. I kissed him back. It was the most _amazing_ kiss I ever had! I don't want to get mushy on you here, but that kiss was indescribable. After that, it was coffee and going for drives and … somewhere along the way he told me he loved me."

"Aww!" I exclaimed again. "He told you that?"

Jazz nodded.

"Did you say it back?"

She nodded again. "Of course I did! No one makes me feel the way that he does!"

"So why is it so hard to tell your brother about it?"

Jazz paused. "I'm scared that he'll take it the wrong way. Tucker wants to tell him but I think that it should be me."

"I think that you should let Tucker do it."

"Why?"

"Because if he's going to beat up Tucker then he won't have to go look for him first."

Jazz kicked at me. "You're not being helpful."

"I never said that I would be," I giggled.

"Do you really think that Danny's going to react badly?"

"I don't know if I can really –" I began but Jazz cut me off.

"But you know him so well!" She protested.

I felt my own cheeks heat up.

Jazz realized her own mistake, reaching for me. "Sam, I'm so sorry. I didn't think about what I was saying. I mean –"

"It's all right," I told her quietly.

Really, it was true, wasn't it? I had gotten to know Fenton, accidentally mind you, but I did know him. And I also knew that I could guess how he was going to react.

"I think he's going to act like he's more annoyed by it than he is. He's going to think he needs to play into the protective role. I'm guessing he's going to feel the need to badger the two of you about it."

"I agree. He's going to become a bit of a brat about this, I think." Jazz smiled at me. "I just don't know when the time would be right."

"I think you're making too big of a deal out of it. I know from experience that the longer you wait to tell him, the worse it's going to be when it comes out."

"That's a good point." Jazz hesitated for a moment before asking me, "Is it hard for you to talk about him? Or even just relationships in general? Because I brought you down here so that you could get away from him, not so I could continue to bother you."

"It's all right. It bothers me to hear about him and be around him but on the other hand, I can't spend my time in Amity avoiding him. Good things are coming my way and I won't let my hatred of him hold me back from those good things, you know?"

"I'm glad you're all right. I've been worried about you."

"I was always going to be all right," I said, a hint of sadness in my voice.

I really didn't have any other choice, did I? After all that I had been through in my life, I didn't have the right to just give up. I had known, from the moment I woke up after my suicide attempt that I would be in this for the long run. I was going to handle every day as it came; I was going to conquer all that life decided to throw at me. Fenton had been a challenge; that couldn't be denied. I was living through it and I knew it would soon come to the point where he was just a painful memory.

'Cause, hey, when life gives you lemons you make lemonade, right?

**I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my betas: Forever Sky.**

**~TLL~**


	6. Chapter 6

"Is he cute?" Leslie pressed me when I Skyped her later that night. "Please tell me that you didn't say yes to someone who wasn't cute."

"Yes," I giggled. "He's cute."

My friend grinned back at me. "A cute foreigner named Gregor. I thought you weren't looking for romance, Miss Sam."

"I wasn't! Sometimes good things just happen!"

"Good things will happen if he has a big –"

"Stop!" I shrieked, holding out my hand. "I told you that I'm not going there. No sex for me."

Leslie flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"You've already told me you aren't a virgin. I don't think it would be so bad to do it again."

I frowned at her. "Excuse me, Miss Teen Mom, but shouldn't you be preaching abstinence?"

Leslie shrugged, glancing to the left toward where Gavin – her one month old baby – was presumably sleeping.

"It wasn't sex that got me into trouble," she sighed. "It was doing it without a condom that got me in trouble. So, I'm not preaching anything but safe sex. Which, you know, you should have with Gregor-the-cutie _if_ you so decide that he is worthy of you."

I couldn't help but smile at her. Up until a few months ago, if someone had asked me if I would ever be friends with Leslie, I would have replied with a strong 'never'. She had been one of my biggest bullies when I had lived in New Orleans. When I had returned, we'd encountered one another by chance. I thought that meeting would be the end of it but, no. In some strange twist of fate, Leslie and I had become friends. She wasn't the girl from my horrific memories of my childhood; becoming pregnant at such a young age had changed Leslie for the better and now, I couldn't imagine my life without her.

"Well, we'll have to wait and see if he _is_ worthy," I replied.

"Good things come to those who wait," Leslie quipped. "Is he picking you up soon?"

"Like, in an hour," I answered, checking my clock.

"What are you wearing?"

"Clothes, likely."

"Sam, honey, now is not the time for your sass," Leslie instructed. "We're going to pick out a cute first date outfit for you."

"Leslie, I don't think it's –"

"You had better not end that sentence with 'necessary'. Of course it's necessary! It's a first date. You want to make a good first impression."

"Our 'first impression', was him walking into the bathroom after I was done in there. I don't think I'm going to do much worse."

"Did you shit?" Leslie whispered.

"_What!?_"

"Like, when you were in the bathroom," Leslie clarified, blue eyes wide. "Did you shit?"

"No!"

"Then no harm, no foul. He doesn't know what you were doing in the bathroom, it didn't smell _and_ he obviously still wants to go out with you because he hasn't texted you yet with some lame excuse to _not_ see you. So, no harm, no foul. Now, pick me up and carry me into your closet so we can find you something cute to wear."

I sighed and did as she asked. Sometimes Leslie could get a little (extremely) bossy but I didn't mind it. Being bossy was a part of her nature and, besides, I could stand up to myself when she crossed the line into a dictatorship. Tara was the same way – a force of nature.

I entered my closet and placed my laptop on one of the little tables that I had set up.

"Hmm," Leslie murmured. "You don't have much of a selection."

"I didn't see the point in dragging my entire wardrobe from New Orleans to here, especially since I'm only going to be here a month."

Leslie rolled her eyes again. A major part of Leslie's life was clothing and fashion; as a fashion protégée, I was a disappointment to her but I wasn't crying over it. I didn't dress like a hobo, generally, and I liked what I wore; I always felt like it fit my personality.

"What's that black thing there?" Leslie demanded, pointing.

"What black thing? Ninety-eight percent of my wardrobe is made up of 'black things'."

"Luckily, we're working on the colour thing," Leslie giggled. "But no, to the left … You're other left, honey. Now, up one … Okay and left one more time … Wait! No, sorry it was right that time. Oops. Yes! Right _there_. What's that?"

"It's a skirt," I answered, picking the hanger up off the pole and presenting it to her.

"Ooh!" Leslie gushed. "That's really cute and it'll make you look like a badass. I vote for that skirt."

"Are you sure?" I questioned.

It wasn't that I didn't like the skirt, because I did. It was made of black faux leather with a lace cut out on the left side at the very bottom. It was short; it only came to about mid-thigh. The length wasn't really my problem with the skirt – it was usually the length that I wore them – but it was _tight_. The leather-esque material would cling to my legs and make awkward squeaking sounds if I were sweating in it. Not that I was planning on getting sweaty but, you know, summer nights aren't known for being cold.

"Yes. Trust me, okay?" Leslie shot me a smile. "Now, let's talk shirts. We can't have you wandering around half-naked, though I'm sure Gregor would just eat you up!"

"Shirts," I sighed, getting Leslie back on track.

"Right. Go for something long but breathable. That way you'll look cute and you won't freeze your tits off if it's not sweltering tonight."

"Have I ever told you I love how eloquent you are?"

"Have I ever told you I have no idea what eloquent means?"

I turned my back on her and began to flip through the assortment of shirts that I had in Amity Park. I reached for one, but it elicited a sharp screech from Leslie.

"Stay away from the peasant top, Manson. Just don't. Not with that skirt."

I immediately backed off and picked up another one. "Okay, does this work?"

Leslie didn't comment for a moment. "I _like_ it. It's cute, it's you and it's got some colour. Nice choice, Manson."

"Thank you," I said, grinning.

I put the top with the skirt. I didn't think I'd ever worn the top before – it was one of Mother's picks – but looking at it now, I couldn't see why I had avoided it. It was a nice shade of blue, like the sky in the middle of summer. It was long sleeved … sort of. The sleeves went from my wrists to just under my bicep and then revealed my shoulders. There was a thick strap that came over my collarbone on each side, similarly to where the straps would be if it was just a tank top. These straps had a cute little silver buckle on them, giving the shirt a hint of decoration.

"Now, find some cute jewellery, a pair of shit-kicker boots and we'll have a total winner."

(-.-)

Gregor was supposed to pick me up in fifteen minutes and I was nervous.

To put my life in perspective, I had never been on a real date before. Obviously I had Phantom – who was everything from my first kiss to my first sexual partner – but because he was a well-known, ghostly figure, we had never gone on a real date. The closest we'd ever come was Paullina Sanchez's Halloween party and he'd barely been there for that. Long story short, I didn't know how I was supposed to act.

(Okay, yes, I'd decided that I was going to pretend to be confident, but 'fake it 'til you make it' seems good in theory. When you try to put it into practice, well, things are a little different.)

I nearly jumped out of my skin when my cell phone vibrated in my hand.

**Gregor: I'm here. Should I come in?**

** Me: Nah, I'm the only one home. I'll come out and meet you.**

** Gregor: Hurry! I'm anxious to see you **

Either this was going to be a fantastic night or I was going to end up dead in a ditch. As I headed outside to my driveway, my last thought before getting in the car was: _well, at least I'll make a fabulous corpse._

"You look fantastic," Gregor told me.

I blushed and busied myself with putting on my seatbelt.

"T-thanks," I stuttered. "You look nice too."

And he did. He was wearing casual beige shorts with a nice white button-up with short sleeves. He was making me feel slightly over dressed though, and I was beginning to get worried that I wasn't dressed appropriately for what Gregor might have in mind for tonight. Why had I gone with the skirt? I should have gone with jean shorts.

"So, I thought we'd get something to eat first, you know, if you're hungry."

"I could eat," I told him. Then I glanced at the silent radio. "Do you mind if I put something on?"

"No, no, go ahead. My iPod is plugged in, if you want to pick something from that," he offered.

I picked up the iPod and began scrolling as Gregor drove. As I looked through it, I liked what I saw. Not only was there good ol' MCR, but Gregor also listened to Hedley, Breaking Benjamin, Halestorm, Evanescence … Just to name a few of my favourites that I saw in his list of artists. He also had a surprising amount of country music on his iPod.

And country music is exactly what I put on. Somehow, Jason Aldean was perfect for the drive.

"So, this might not be the most typical place for a first date," Gregor began as the car started slowing down, "but in my few months in Amity, I have found that this is one of my favourite places around the town. I wanted to share it with you."

I looked up at the building in front of us. It was a retro diner but it was too big to just be a diner. Through the front windows, I could see an eating area – complete with neon, a jukebox and red vinyl booths – but there was a black doorway that obviously led to the huge back of the building.

"What's at the back of the building?" I finally asked, after we sat in the car for a moment and I stared at the building, trying to figure out just what it was.

"It's a roller skating rink," Gregor explained with a grin.

"Are you serious?" I was so excited about the prospect of the rink that I didn't even consider regretting the skirt. Somehow, I would make it work.

"Yes, completely," Gregor laughed. "Are you ready to eat and roller skate? I promise that this place has some good vegetarian options too – it's not all hamburgers."

"I'm really excited," I admitted, not even slightly ashamed at how much of a child I sounded. "Let's go in!"

Gregor grinned and we both climbed out of the car. I couldn't help but drink in all of the sights of the diner; it truly did live up to the fifties aesthetics that were promoted on the outside. As we stepped inside – Gregor holding the door for me – I was assaulted with the smell of grease and the sound of the jukebox and, underneath of the music, the sound of wheels and laughter.

I was practically lusting after that roller skating rink. I'd never tried it in my life and I'd never really thought about trying it before, but now that the opportunity was presented before me, I couldn't wait to get onto the skates and go for it. I would have insisted that we go roller skating first, if my stomach wasn't growling so ferociously at me.

We slid into a booth. My skirt made an uncomfortable squeaking noise that I didn't even try to explain because what the hell was I going to say? And, you know, I figured he was bright enough to figure it out or tactful enough that he wouldn't mention it even if he thought that I was just gassy.

"The milkshakes here are delicious," Gregor commented as a waitress on roller skates (how freakin' awesome was that?!) brought us our menus. "Especially the chocolate ones."

I peeked at him over the top of my menu. "You are reading my mind."

This date was going to go swimmingly; I could tell.

**I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my betas: Forever Sky.**

**~TLL~**


	7. Chapter 7

By the time Gregor and I had decided that it was time to go, I was slightly red-faced and my leg muscles felt like jelly. I knew I'd scraped my knees when I had taken one of my many spills throughout the night … although, I don't think I flashed anyone on my way down. I'm counting that one as a success. Aside from the tumbles, roller blading was _awesome. _Even if I included the falls, it was still _awesome_.

As Gregor pulled his car into my driveway, the excitement still lingered. And then, something dawned on me. I may not know much about dates but, I did know this: at the end of the date, in front of the girl's house, is when the boy expects a kiss. There was a flare of nerves in my stomach. Gregor was perfectly nice. I was quite sure that I wanted to see him again. However, I was not sure that I wanted to kiss him now, right this minute.

"You can breathe," Gregor rumbled, making me jump out of my thoughts.

"What?" I squeaked. "I'm breathing."

"You don't …" Gregor stopped and then began again, "I don't expect you to kiss me right now, Sam. I don't think you want to."

"Gregor, it's not that –"

He stopped my words with a chuckle. "I don't think it has anything to do with you not liking me. I am convinced you like me. I just don't think you're ready to kiss me. That's all right."

Immediately, the nerves in my stomach lifted and I began to relax. I'd never had to really deal with male expectations before. Phantom had never really led me to believe he had any expectations of me (though I'm sure that he did) and I'd never run into any sexualized street harassment like I knew some girls had. Tara, particularly, experienced it often. She responded by flipping them off and screaming expletives back at them until they looked away from her, red-faced and ashamed. I never had the courage to do that, and often stepped away from her while she was doing it, slightly embarrassed on her behalf.

"R-really?" I stuttered, wanting to clarify. If he truly didn't have that expectation, I might have met one of the most considerate guys around.

"Yeah," Gregor nodded. "Although, there is one thing I'd like from you."

"What's that?" I asked, the nerves sneaking back into my stomach slowly.

"I would like a second date, if you would like to see me again."

"I would," I told him, grinning. "I really would."

"Great," he replied, grinning back at me. "My Uncle is having a little barbeque this weekend. It's nothing big, just a few people relaxing by the pool. I thought that might be a nice thing and, afterward, if you wanted to, we could watch a movie."

"I think that sounds nice."

"You're not just saying that, are you?" Gregor questioned, and I thought that he sounded nervous.

The fact that he sounded nervous was cute.

"I'm not, I promise." I smothered a yawn and knew that it was time for me to go inside; roller skating really takes a lot out of a person. "How about a hug before we call it a night?"

"You have wonderful ideas, Sam Manson."

I stifled a giggle but not the subsequent grin as we both leaned forward and met over the console. Although it only lasted for a moment, I was basking in the feeling of being held even though his seatbelt was digging into my chin. There's nothing quite like having close contact with another person. There's nothing like feeling the rise and fall of their chest and of knowing that their heart is beating because you can hear it. A feeling of nostalgia welled within me as another boy's heartbeat rose in my memory, clearer to me than my own heartbeat.

I forced Phantom away. He had no place here, in this pretty green car owned by a boy who wasn't him. He didn't belong in the same space as this boy with thick arms and a disarming smile that didn't hide anything. Phantom was not welcome when I was moving on with a boy who smelled of Chocolate Axe and asked me questions about my life, because he already knew that I was worth knowing as a person and not just something to use. The boy I was in this car with was not the boy who had hurt me. The boy who had hurt me no longer had a place here.

"I'll see you Saturday, then?" I guessed, as Gregor hadn't given me the exact day.

He nodded. "Four o'clock. Would you like me to pick you up?"

I shook my head. "I can drive myself. Just … text me the directions, okay?"

"Okay," he said.

I let myself out of the car. As I took a step toward my door, I heard one of the car's windows roll down. I paused in mid-step as Gregor called, "I really can't wait to see you again."

I felt a blush rise to my cheeks and tripped over my own feet the rest of the way to my front door. I couldn't help it; he honestly seemed great. He'd complimented me several times throughout the course of the night; he'd asked before he took my hand when we were roller-blading; and he really seemed excited to be spending time with me. I hoped that last one wasn't just in my head. Though I'd been hesitant about the idea of dating in general and even more so when it came to going on a date with a stranger, Gregor seemed fantastic. Even if this only turned out to be a summer fling, I had a feeling that this was going to be a good experience. Exactly what I needed.

I was heading up to my room when my mother's voice stopped me.

"Did you have a good night, honey?"

I turned to face her, just as her head peered out of the upstairs study doorway.

I nodded.

"I can tell," Mother confided. "Only girls who've had good nights play with their hair."

I dropped my hand away from my scalp as if I'd been burned. I hadn't even realized I was playing with my hair.

"Mother!" I scolded, realizing exactly what my mother could have been implying about my night. My blush deepened, but for an entirely different reason. "It was only the first date!"

My mother's usually porcelain cheeks turned bright red. "Samantha, that's not how I meant it and you know it!"

"Well then don't be so suggestive then," I shot back, placing my hands on my hips. "Goodness; you'd think you'd learn."

"Maybe you shouldn't be so filthy-minded," Mother returned. "I thought I raised you to be a pure little girl."

_Pure_, my mind chortled, sarcastically flashing to my one sexual encounter.

"You know that I've always tried to be the little girl you raised me to be," I responded, avoiding the topic of sex entirely. My mother had never even attempted to give me 'the talk' and I certainly wasn't in a hurry to bring that fact to light.

"Mmhmm," Mother hummed, not even dignifying me with a response. "Get to bed. It's late."

"It's only like, eleven!" I protested. "And I'm eighteen."

Mother laughed. Not like her usual poised giggle or gentle chuckles. She full-out guffawed at me. "Out of _all_ the things you could use your rebellion on you decide to wage war on a bedtime? And a barely suggested bedtime at that? Oh, Samantha. I love you so."

She pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. Or maybe there was actually a tear there. I don't know.

"I'm going to bed," I announced, unnerved at being laughed at so ferociously.

As I turned the corner into my bedroom, Mother yelled after me. "I know!"

Did … did she just manipulate me? I almost turned around to go and confront her on it, but I didn't. Instead, I shut my door loudly so she would know I wasn't going to acknowledge her petty manipulation. I was eighteen years old and I was not going to bed because my mother told me to. I nodded to myself, internally celebrating my small victory.

With my victory, there came an issue: I was tired. I wanted to go to sleep. Roller-blading had made me exhausted. I had gotten bumps and little scrapes. All I wanted was to turn my fan on, curl under my sheet, and pass out with the good vibes from the night hopefully carrying into my dreams. But I couldn't. If I did, then it would be like giving into Mother and though this might have been the most useless thing to protest about (as she had so scathingly pointed out), I couldn't give in. I had to stay awake at least an hour and then I could go to bed, snuggled with my little triumph.

Well, just because I wasn't going to sleep didn't mean I couldn't physically be in my bed, right? Right.

Stripping as I made my way to the piece of furniture, I pulled my phone out of my purse. I had ignored it all night in favour of focusing on Gregor. I hadn't wanted to be one of those people who spent all of their time on their phone. It really wasn't _that_ important that I be glued to the technology anyway. However, in my absence, I had managed to accumulate three texts, all on the same subject: Gregor.

**Tara: Date tonight, right?**

** Leslie: Bow chicka wow wow? No. Still bangin' in the skirt. Want deets asap!**

** Tucker: Was he nice to you?**

As early as I claimed it was; Leslie was probably asleep. Ever since she'd had her baby, she barely stayed up past ten at night. Gavin didn't really sleep through the night and she wanted to get as much rest as she wanted before he started screaming for her. As for Tara, her overly-strict parents had started taking her phone at eleven every night. I'd have to answer the both of them in the morning. As for Tuck, I always knew he was up for conversation.

**Me: Yeah, he was really nice. I like him.**

** Tucker: good.**

** Me: Are you being sincere?**

** Tucker: Absolutely! Just because Danny is my friend doesn't mean you aren't. I know he was an asshole and I know you don't deserve an asshole.**

** Me: Thanks Tuck.**

** Tucker: So … what did you do on this date?**

** Me: Do you really want to know the details?**

** Tucker: Honestly, my big concern is whether or not you kissed him.**

** Me: You're turning into a gossipy girl!**

** Tucker: Fuck that! Now answer the question.**

** Me: I didn't see a question there.**

** Tucker: Smart-ass.**

** Me: No.**

** Tucker: No you're not smart?**

** Me: No, I didn't kiss him, moron.**

** Tucker: Oh. Why?**

** Me: It didn't feel right to kiss him tonight. Maybe on our next date.**

** Tucker: When is your next date?**

** Me: This weekend. His uncle is having a bbq.**

** Tucker: His uncle? Sam … be careful.**

** Me: I keep hearing that around you guys. What's going on?**

** Tucker: Um. Nothing you need to worry about, okay? I just … be careful. Promise me.**

** Me: I promise. I don't go looking for trouble anyway.**

** Tucker: Good.**

** Me: Anyway, I should get to bed. It's midnight.**

** Tucker: Night. Sweet dreams.**

** Me: You too.**

I plugged the charger into my phone and placed it on my bedside table. As I flipped over and faced my balcony, I tried not to think about what Tucker had said. It was too cryptic of a message to do anything but bother me, anyway.

Still, I dreamed about it.

_Be careful. Be careful. The words rang in my head as I stumbled around in the dark, running into cell bars every time I turned around. There was a spot of white ahead. I raced forward and ran into bars again. I stretched my hand out, trying to grab at the white. I hit something solid. Gregor turned around but as he smiled at me, he began to transform. Phantom began to bubble out of his features: white-haired; gleaming; just as beautiful as I remembered him._

I woke up drenched in sweat, screaming my head off.

**I don't own anything recognizable. Sorry this is a little late; I'm currently switching computers and I jut got Microsoft Word tonight!**

**~TLL~**


	8. Chapter 8

It was probably Leslie's influence that landed me here: in my closet, stressing over what outfit I should wear to the barbeque. I had never worried about clothing this much before. If it fit me and I liked it, I wore it. Now, I was starting to be aware of what I actually put on my body and how others would perceive it. In this instance, I was thinking about Gregor. I wanted him to think that I was attractive and I knew that clothing would help me do that.

I also didn't want to dress inappropriately for the event. Gregor had said that it was a casual, small event, but I also knew that his uncle was part of the upper, _upper_ class of Amity Park society. Mother had given me a lecture on Vlad Masters – Gregor's uncle and current guardian – when she had found out where I was going this afternoon. She had told me that my first priority should be to impress this man. He was powerful, influential, and (apparently) my father was attempting to close a business deal with him.

I knew my father was trying to start up a new company now that the original family business was, more or less, running itself but I hadn't known he was trying to bring a business partner into it.

I sighed. Vlad Masters, whoever he was, wasn't the issue right now. The issue was my closet and the fact that I was left to my own devices, trying to choose an outfit.

This was ridiculous. I'm an eighteen year old girl. I can choose my own clothing.

I didn't want to wear a dress. Dresses were for less-casual events. Shorts and a nice top would have to do. I immediately grabbed my favourite pair of denim shorts – the cute ones with the white hearts bleached into my back pockets. Now, for the shirt. It was too hot for me to think about wearing black. In fact, it was too hot for me to even think about wearing a t-shirt. The idea of having my arms even partially covered had me sweating.

I opened the bags from my shopping trip with Mother yesterday. I'd been too tired when I got home to put the clothes away, but there might be something in there that I wanted to wear. I dug through shoe boxes, a few dresses, some nice t-shirts, a fall jacket for when I went to school and then some tank tops. Instantly, I remembered a cute purple tank top that I'd picked out yesterday and pulled on the fabric when I found it.

I fluffed the top out, displaying it across one of the little tables in my closet in order to judge it and make sure it was appropriate.

It was.

The tank top was a pale shade of purple; not quite lavender though. It wasn't a pastel colour. It had thick straps, which I loved. The fabric itself looked like there were multiple pieces stitched together, one going to the left and the other one going to the right. Except, high on my right ribs and low on my left ribs there was lace. It wasn't a cut out of lace – you couldn't see my skin underneath – but I liked that better. I found that lace cut outs began to feel itchy after a while of wearing the garment. With the silky material making up the entire shirt, I knew I was going to feel completely comfortable.

I ripped off the tags – with my teeth because I'm feral like that – and tugged the shirt on. It fitted better than it did in the dressing room yesterday (in my opinion). I followed with the shorts before shoving my feet into my favourite grey flip flops with the bling on the toe bands.

I felt ready. I felt confident.

Maybe this was why Leslie put such an emphasis on clothing.

Taking one last look in the mirror, I deemed myself ready. I picked up my purse and headed out, yelling that I was doing so as I passed the kitchen. I didn't want to give my mother a chance to lecture me on how nice I was to be to Vlad Masters again. It's not like I went out of my way to be mean to strangers – especially people who were my elders – to begin with.

Getting into my car required massive effort. It was _burning_ in there. I cranked the air conditioner as far up as it would go and waited for the cold air to wash over my sweltering skin. Once I was at a more comfortable temperature, I pulled up a text from Gregor: the one with directions to Vlad Masters' house. It seemed simple enough to get there. I had made it from Amity to New Orleans (and then back again) with no troubles. Going outside of town would be a nice little drive.

And it was.

Vlad Masters' house wasn't hidden back in the woods but it was outside of town. It set high on a hill, like all extravagant mansions should be. I don't use the term extravagant lightly, but not even the Sanchez's had anything on this man. I was scared to even approach it, but I drove my car up the drive way where there was a valet waiting for me.

I mean, everyone uses valets at parties but this clearly _wasn't_ a big party. Still, I handed the man my keys and walked up the front steps between columns (you head that right; _columns_) where Gregor was loitering by the front door.

"I was beginning to worry that you'd never show up," he admitted, reaching for my hand.

"I wouldn't stand you up," I assured him, squeezing his hand, which felt wonderful in mine.

"Oh, it wasn't that," Gregor explained as he lead me through the mansion. "I was worried that you might have gotten lost."

"Please," I guffawed. "I have a fabulous sense of direction."

"That's wonderful to hear," a deep, masculine voice purred.

The man approaching us was skinny and … well, odd looking if I'm going to be honest. He had to be Vlad Masters. Though I had never met him before, he just had this aura of power that I knew came from successful businessmen. He had white hair held back into a ponytail, along with a white goatee. His eyebrows, which were stark black, kept distracting me though, based on their colour. He had interesting blue eyes that I felt were judging me but there was one thing that ultimately had me 100% confused about Vlad Masters.

I was about 99% sure that he was wearing eyeliner.

"I'm Vlad Masters," he introduced himself, holding his hand out for me to shake.

"Hello, Mr. Masters. I'm Sam Manson. You may know my father, Jeremy," I added.

"Oh yes," he purred. "We know each other quite well. We're thinking of starting a company together."

"I hope the venture is successful. My father is very good with what he does."

"And he obviously raised his daughter the right way." Vlad laughed. "I have some other guests that I need to attend to. But, please, Samantha, make yourself at home. I want you to feel _extremely_ comfortable here."

"Thank you," I said, because I knew it was the polite thing to do.

But, as he walked away, a chill came over me. There was something in the way he looked at me, or maybe it was the way he called me Samantha even though I introduced myself differently, that made me wary of him. It could, of course, be attributed to how Tucker talked about Vlad – something that both Jazz and Fenton corroborated. Maybe I was just being paranoid and letting them get to me.

Yep … probably just paranoid.

"Are you hungry?" Gregor asked me. "They just put veggie burgers on the grill. It shouldn't be too much longer."

"Veggie burgers sound great," I said with a smile, trailing after Gregor.

There was no use making trouble where it wasn't due.

(-.-)

"I'm sorry, but this is one of the dumbest movies I've ever seen," I laughed, while gently hitting Gregor with one of the decorative throw cushions that were littered around us.

"The Naked Gun: From The Files of Police Squad is a hilarious movie," Gregor explained to me. "What have you got against it?"

"It's _dumb_," I said again, having no other way to describe the film.

"Well, let's talk so you can be distracted from how dumb the movie is," Gregor proposed.

I shifted on his basement couch so that our shoulders were nearly touching. "All right. What would you like to talk about?"

He shrugged, his shoulder bumping mine. "Ask me a question."

I thought for a moment. "Why are you with your uncle instead of your parents?"

"Oh, my parents like me to experience different cultures. Last summer, I was with my sister who lives in Australia. It was just Uncle Vlad's turn on the rotation. I like him though. He's very relaxed about what I do."

"That's nice … Your turn to ask me a question."

I quieted the voice in my head that reminded me of when I had played the questions game with Phantom.

"All right. Why are you in Amity Park this August?"

"I'm going to New York for school in the fall. I'm going to be studying interior design. My parents wanted to spend some time with me before I went. Previously, I was living in New Orleans."

"Is it nice there? I've never been."

"I like it. It's really different from Amity, though. I'm sure you've been to a lot of really awesome places though. You might not find it that interesting."

"On the contrary," Gregor argued. "Every place is interesting. Especially if it produces people like you."

I couldn't help from blushing. Gregor was so sweet all of the time. It was hard not to crush on him.

"Thanks …" I took a breath, wondering if a compliment would sound awkward coming from me, but I said it anyway. He deserved it. "Hungary must be one of the best places in the entire world, then."

Gregor grinned at me, and then tucked his arm around my shoulders. I relaxed my head back onto his forearm, feeling completely comfortable with the new position.

"I think you'd love it there," Gregor admitted.

"I'd love to go someday. I want to see _everywhere. _I just don't like the feeling that I'm missing out on something, you know? I just want travel and _experience._"

"Travelling is wonderful," Gregor told me. "My family loves to take vacations and to send me off to random relatives around the world. I've never lost my appreciation for the beauty of other places – there's so much to know about every new area I venture into. That being said, all of the travelling really makes you appreciate how wonderful home is when you truly do go back."

"I can connect with that. I mean, I know the distance isn't quite as big but I never truly loved New Orleans until I left and had the opportunity to go back."

"I think you understand _exactly_."

I look up into his soft green eyes and I feel as though he really did understand me. There's a lot that I have left to learn about Gregor, and there's a lot that he has to learn about me, but I feel like we're both excited to learn those things. I want to know about his parents and where he comes from. I want to know what he likes and dislikes. I want to know the little things that make up his heart.

"Sam?" Gregor asked, breaking me from my slightly poetic thoughts.

"Yes?"

"May I kiss you now?"

"Yes," I repeated, my heart pounding my chest.

This was the second person I was going to kiss in my entire life. My stomach was doing flips and I thought butterflies were literally going to come spewing out of my mouth. I closed my eyes as Gregor leaned forward to kiss me.

His kiss was warm and soft. It was gentle and exploratory. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he tugged me a little closer, his arms wrapping around my waist. When he went to lift his head and break the kiss, I didn't let him. I kept him where he was with a hand on the back of his neck.

He was a wonderful kisser.

By the time the movie was actually over, I was so completely distracted by making out with Gregor that I had forgotten how dumb I had found it. I was actually thinking that I was one of the best movies ever made as Gregor walked me out to my car.

As we were passing one of the sitting rooms, Vlad called out to us.

"Leaving already, Samantha?"

"Yes," I answered, pausing as he left the sitting room to come and talk to us. "Thank you so much for inviting me to your barbeque. It was lovely."

"It was grand to have you. I've a feeling we'll be seeing more of each other as your father and I go into business with one another."

"That'll be great," I said, not knowing what else to say.

"It will," Vlad purred.

He then leaned forward and I realized that he was going to hug me. In a moment of panic, I stayed absolutely rigid as he gently placed his arms around me. The chill that was present earlier appeared again tenfold, much to my distaste. As soon as Vlad released me, Gregor and I escaped to the front porch, both equally aware of the awkward moment that had just occurred.

"I know my goodnight gesture won't be nearly as great as my uncle's, but I'd still like to give you a kiss," Gregor joked.

I giggled and kissed him goodnight, prancing out to my car.

It wasn't until I was on my way home that a realization hit me. The chill that had been coming from Vlad, the one that I had chalked up to how strange he acted and how awkward he made me feel wasn't just from that. The chill was familiar to me. It was the same kind of feeling that had radiated off Phantom: not quite glacial but not quite human either.

I suddenly knew that I was going to have to grill Tucker.

**I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my betas: Forever Sky!**

**~TLL~**


	9. Chapter 9

**Me: Tucker, we need to talk.**

** Me: I know you're probably busy but I think this is important.**

** Me: It's about Vlad. I know you said to be careful but I really need to know about what.**

** Me: I'm going to bed. Respond asap in the morning. Vlad freaked me out. Night.**

(-.-)

I woke up because my phone was ringing. Without opening my eyes, I pulled the piece of technology from my bed, swiped the screen and held it up to my ear.

"'ello?" I grunted.

"Sam?" Tucker asked. "Are you all right? Did anything happen? I just got your texts and I wanted to check in."

"Nothing happened I just have questions." I stopped. "Are … are you all right?"

"I've been at the hospital." He sniffed. I knew he sounded like he'd been crying. "Jazz was attacked last night."

"Attacked? What do you mean _attacked_?"

"Aw, fuck. It's bad Sam. She's … it's … _fuck_."

"Do you want me to come over there?"

"Actually, can I come there? It's really difficult being here right now and she's under lockdown by the doctors, basically –"

"Say no more, Tuck. Come on over whenever you want."

"Thanks, Sam. I'll see you soon."

I crawled out of bed, threw on some clothing and went to warn my parents about Tucker's arrival. I wandered into the kitchen, where my father was pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"It's early for you to be up, honey," he commented.

I squinted at the microwave clock. Holy crap, it was only 7:30. No wonder Dad looked shocked to see me.

"One of my friends is coming over," I mumbled, grabbing the coffee pot as soon as he set it down.

"So early?" Dad raised his eyebrows at me.

"Look, his girlfriend was attacked last night or something and he's not allowed to see her. He just wants some support."

"You don't need to defend yourself, hon. It's perfectly all right for you to have a friend over." Dad took a long drink of his coffee and then paused. "But it's a boy and I'm your father so … leave your door open."

I cracked a grin, though grinning before noon is nearly impossible. "All right, if you insist."

"I do," Dad answered. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm supposed to be in a virtual business meeting right now."

"Have fun," I told him sarcastically.

Dad grunted and threw me a look. I sipped at my coffee and waited for the doorbell to ring. It wasn't long before the 'ding-dong' sound beckoned me to the front door. I raced to it, not wanting Tucker to be alone. I knew that being alone was one of the worst things a person could be, especially when they were sad.

When I opened the door, my diagnosis of 'sad' didn't even begin to cover the devastated look on Tucker's broad face. I reached for him and, though he was _much_ taller and _much_ bigger than I was, he leaned into my arms; looking for the support I was so willing to offer him. I led him inside, keeping an arm around his waist. Together, we stumbled up the stairs into my room. I left the door open a crack, just as my father had suggested.

Tucker was crumpled on my bed.

I was at a loss for words.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I offered, sitting next to him and rubbing circles between his shoulder blades.

"I don't know. Danny called me last night, all freaked out because there was something wrong. He said that he found in her in the street, looking like she'd been fucking mauled. He was out of it because he knew that it was his fault and I was out of it because I'm in love with her. Being at the hospital is insane because the Fentons' are all stressed out and none of them know how to deal with it. We're not even allowed to see Jazz because she's in ICU or something right now and, whenever they think they have all their problems fixed, something else goes wrong. And, even if she got to a point where she was allowed visitors, it's immediate family only." He sat up and looked at me, eyes dripping with tears. "What if something goes wrong, Sam? What if we lose her?"

My mind was spinning with questions. Tucker clearly knew what had attacked Jazz; he must have known since Fenton was blaming himself. I wondered what Fenton could be doing to bring such hell on his family, especially the sister I knew he adored. My intuition was telling me it had something to do with the Vlad mystery, although I knew that this was no time to ask about any of it. Tucker needed to be comforted, not grilled.

"Nothing is going to happen," I soothed. "Jazz is tough and the doctors know what they're doing. She'll be up and around in no time."

"What if she's not? I mean, we never got to tell anyone, least of all Danny. Aside from that, I still haven't told Jazz all of the things that I want to. I need more time with her and I hate this feeling that it's not going to happen."

"It will. It's all going to be fine. I know it's hard right now to believe that – trust me, I _know_ – but no one is losing Jazz, especially not now. She's going wake up and be fine. You'll get to tell Fenton and have him beat you up over kissing his sister or some other masculine reason. You'll get to tell Jazz everything that you need to. I promise, Tuck, you're going to have time."

"I feel like I should have been there to protect her. She shouldn't have been alone. Danny and I _knew_ that. We knew that we shouldn't be alone. But, neither of us considered that the threats would go to Jazz."

"What threats?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"They've been coming since around the time you left Amity, I think. Fuck, Danny should have just stopped it. Or stopped _him_. I never thought this would get so far. _Fuck_." And then Tucker swore again. "_Fuck._"

"Tuck –" I began again but was cut off by a cellphone ringing.

_"If there's something strange in your neighbourhood,_

_ "Who you gonna call? Ghostbusters!_

_ "If there's something weird and it don't look good_

_ "Who you gonna call? Ghost busters!"_

Tucker reached into his pocket and lifted his cellphone to the side of his head. "Hey, Danny. What's going on?"

His ringtone for Fenton was the _Ghostbusters _theme song? Even I could find that a little funny.

"I'm sorry, cardiac arrest? Is that what you just said?"

No, no, no. Jazz just couldn't suffer anymore. She had to be all right. She had to start getting better.

"Is she …?" Tucker stopped, unable to ask the question that I finished in my head.

_Is she alive?_

"Good. So it was just the trauma of the attack that caused it? Okay. Do you want me to come back over?" Tucker paused and he swallowed. "No, I understand the importance. I just … I want to be there for you and your family too."

Importance of what? I asked myself, feeling as though a puzzle was building around me and I didn't have a prayer of putting the pieces together.

"Okay. Call me if anything else happens. I want to know."

He hung up the phone, shook his head, and then burst into fresh tears.

"What the fuck am I going to do?"

I had no answers for him.

(-.-)

I stirred the pasta lazily around the pot, the heat of the steam making me drowsy. Tucker had fallen asleep upstairs not too long ago and I had come down to make us both some lunch. Fenton hadn't called again about Jazz, so we had to assume that everything was like it was when he called earlier: Jazz had a problem with her heart now.

'No news is good news' had to be the motto I lived with right now.

My heart ached for my friend. I wanted to go see her; I wanted to reassure myself that she really would be all right. I knew, though, that even if Tucker and I went to the hospital, we wouldn't be allowed to see her: immediate family only. It seemed to be that it was a little unfair that only blood-relation be allowed in to see a person. If I was in the ICU, I'd want more than just my mother and father there. I'd want to see Tara, Leslie, Tucker, and Jazz. They'd bring more comfort to me than my parents would, and I'd probably go insane with parents and nurses as my only visitors when I was on my sick bed.

Not that Jazz was aware of visitors. Tucker had told me that she'd been unconscious ever since she was taken into the hospital.

"Sammy?" Mother called, stepping into the kitchen. "How is your friend? Your father told me what happened."

"He's asleep. I'm just making some lunch for when he gets up."

Mother ran her fingers through my hair and kissed my cheek. "You're such a wonderful woman, Sam. Sometimes I wonder how we got so lucky."

I said nothing. I never knew how to respond when she talked like that.

"The girl … Is it Jasmine Fenton?"

"Yes, why?"

"Vlad Masters just sent out an invitation. On Saturday he's having a little get-together for people to show their support for Jazz. The Fentons, apparently, don't have the exact finances to handle this. I know they've gotten wealthier as of late – Amity gossip filled me in on their rise to fame – but I also know that a lot of it is currently tied up. Vlad is a close friend of theirs. Did you know he went to college with Maddie and Jack before they were married?"

I shook my head, eyes staring with disbelief.

"No? Well, he did. Anyhow, he wants to host this little benefit to make sure that Jazz's hospital bills would be covered. He told your father, in confidence of course so _don't_ share this, Samantha, that he tried to offer the money to them outright, but they couldn't take it. It may have something to do with pride, though I have no idea. I don't actually know that Fentons that well, though their poor little girl." Here, Mother paused and shook her head. "I know what it's like to sit around a hospital bed to see if your daughter will ever wake up. I don't wish that on anyone."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, because it was the right thing to say. I had caused the grief lines currently etched on my mother's face, and I could never take it back.

"It's all right, honey." Mother rubbed my arm. "Anyway, we've been invited to the get together. I know she's a friend of yours. Would you like to attend with us?"

I nodded. "Anything to support Jazz."

"It's formal, so make sure you find something appropriate." Mother kissed my cheek. "Careful you don't overcook your pasta."

I rolled my eyes but when I turned my attention back to the noodles, they were clearly getting close to that point. I yanked the pot away from the burner and poured the contents through the strainer. I returned it all to the pot and stirred the sauce in, taking comfort from the repetitive movements.

It was hard to believe that Jazz was in the hospital; that she was in such danger. I didn't _want_ to believe that my friend was so close to death (though I hardly dared to think the word for fear of jinxing something).

And Vlad must be a nice guy, if he was willing to offer Maddie and Jack so much money upfront and, then when they refused, go on to host a benefit party for her. It was a nice gesture; a generous gesture.

I wanted to tuck away the creepy feeling he gave me, I honestly did. Not only was he Gregor's beloved guardian, but I thought his gesture was incredibly great. Yet, I'd ignored my instincts before. I _had_ been suspicious of Phantom and the lies he'd told me long before he'd actually told me the truth. Every time, though, I had let his lies and my emotions get in the way of seeing the truth and it had led me to getting my heart broken. I _knew_ something was wrong with Vlad and I knew that I had to find out what it was.

Because in my life, things never got better; they only ever became worse.

**I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my betas: Forever Sky.**

**~TLL~**


	10. Chapter 10

"I think I remember Jazz Fenton," Tara mused, her voice bouncing from my phone. "Danny's sister, bright red hair, older than us, right?"

"Right," I confirmed.

"Gosh, I hope she's going to be okay."

"Me too," I agreed. "She's still in the ICU, so I can't even go to see her, but I've been told that she's stable and still comatose."

"And what about the whack job?" Tara asked.

"What whack job?" I replied, reaching for my hair straightener.

It was the night of Jazz's benefit get-together at Vlad's. Mother had picked out my gown, make-up, and hairstyle for me. I hadn't even opened the dress bag yet, for fear that it would be a hot pink, flowery monstrosity (though I hoped that it wasn't, as it would contradict Mother's 'let's-get-along' campaign). Right now, my task was to straighten my hair and do my make-up, which I could do and simultaneously talk to Tara.

"You said she was attacked. Who did it?"

I frowned. "You know … I don't know. I was just so focused on Jazz being hurt that I never asked. I don't think they wanted to talk it about it either."

"Eh, I'm sure when they find out they'll let you know," Tara commented before changing subjects. "So, how is it going with Gregor? It's his uncle holding this thing tonight, right?"

"Right again. Things are going really great. We're not moving very fast but it's going good."

"Ooh, I can hear the smile in your voice," Tara teased. "It's cute that you like someone."

I giggled despite myself. "He's great, Tara. He's so respectful of me and I feel like he listens to every word that I say like it's the most important thing he's ever heard, you know? And, oh my, the boy can kiss."

"Aww, you're smitten," Tara teased.

"I am," I confirmed. "He's smitten too."

"It's too bad that I won't meet this new beau," Tara sighed. "Damn New Orleans. Though, if he's such a gentleman, you could extend it past a summer fling so that I can meet him over Christmas when I _will_ be seeing you again."

"I have no idea what's going to happen when school comes around. If we make it, we make it. If we don't … It was great with him and I think I'll be okay with that."

"Don't send break-up vibes into the universe! I'm rooting for this one."

I laughed.

"Anyway," Tara continued. "It seems inappropriate to tell you to have fun tonight because of what it's for but I sincerely hope you don't have a miserable time, regardless. Kiss Gregor, and give him a long one for me because my love life has been dead lately. Tootles."

"Tootles," I responded, hanging up the phone.

I finished off with my lipstick before turning to the garment bag. I unzipped it and prepared for the worse.

The dress was beautiful. My only concern was that it was a full-length ball gown. There was the slight risk of me sweating to death in it. Still, I pulled it out and fluffed the skirt, studying it. The main colour of the dress was black. It was strapless with a corset top. The corset had stiff metal or plastic rods in the front to give it a shape. The fabric around my stomach was a little sheerer than it was around my breasts, giving a peek (but not much of one) of my skin. I hoped my scars wouldn't show through. The dress then swelled at my waist, opening up at the front to pale pink material. There was a triangle of material that was straight and slightly stiff; above that, there was a layer of ruffled material in the same pink colour. Above that, there was a layer of black that extended all around the dress, blending at the bottom of the dress with the pink material.

Another problem with the dress: I couldn't get it on myself. I couldn't tie up the corset back myself. I would need my mother.

I slipped out into the hallway, walking to the very end where my parents' bedroom was located.

"Mother!" I called, knocking on the door. "I need help with the dress."

"Oh, of course! I'll be right out, Samantha. I'll meet you in your room."

I returned to my bathroom. I stripped my robe off and put the dress on so that I wouldn't have to go through the complete embarrassment of my mother seeing me naked. I held the corset up to my front, studying myself in the mirror. If I squinted, I could see the scars left from that long-ago dragon ghost attack. Nobody else would likely notice them; I was only picking them out because I was deliberately searching for them.

"I'm here!" Mother trilled, bursting into the room. She was, essentially, at the same stage as me: her make-up and hair were done but she was in her robe. She immediately seized the back of my dress. "Stand still, darling."

I froze like a statue, despite the fact that she was hauling on the ribbons at the back of my dress. My mother didn't look like a strong woman, but she was practically pulling me off of my feet as she worked on my corset, making sure that my dress would stay in place and that I would look my best in it. Finally, when I felt that I could no longer breathe because of how she was putting force on my abdomen, Mother said that she was finished.

"We're leaving as soon as I get my dress on," Mother warned me. "So be ready."

"I am ready," I assured her. "Just need to get my shoes on."

"All right." Mother swept out of the room.

I picked the plain black heels out of the bottom of the garment bag and slid them on my feet. I wobbled immediately. I'd never been comfortable in high heels, though I'd been able to walk in them before. Now, I was wearing heels taller than I was used to and after months of not wearing heels at all, I was wobbling.

I hoped I wouldn't break my neck.

I took the stairs one at a time, slowly making my way to the foyer where father was waiting. I was standing there for only a minute when Mother appeared at the top the stairs, sweeping down them. I envied her easy ability to walk, even in the tight beige sheath she'd decided to wear.

"Let's go!" She exclaimed, and we all filed out to the car.

The drive to Vlad's seemed short this time; maybe it's because I knew where we were going. Either way, as soon I was entered the great mansion, I immediately scoped out people I knew. The only person I recognized was Gregor, who had apparently been waiting for me.

"You look lovely," he complimented me. "Beautiful."

"Thank you." I glanced at him. "You look wonderful in your tux."

"Mmm. I never thought that I would be dressed so formally during the summer, although it is for a good cause. I barely spoke to Jasmine, though we did meet before – Uncle Vlad and her parents are very close, you know."

"Yes, I heard that." I confirmed. "Are the Fentons here? Is Tucker?"

"The Fentons are here. I don't know if I have seen Tucker – he's the black one, yes?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"I haven't seen him yet, but I could have missed him," Gregor said. "Let's just make some rounds and look, shall we?"

The mansion was filled with men in suits and women in formal gowns. There was a silent auction going on in the basement while a dance floor, along with a live band, was happening in the west wing of the main floor. There was a cash bar and a buffet set up on the opposite side of the mansion, with five-star chefs creating magic in the kitchen. There was even a novelty photo booth, complete with a prop box that people could pay to use. It seemed that Vlad was really trying to optimize profits so that he could give as much as possible to the Fentons.

He clearly loved his friends.

I spotted Maddie Fenton over by the punch bowl, though her husband and son were nowhere in sight. I immediately headed to her, Gregor in tow.

"Hi, Maddie," I said as I approached her.

"Oh, hi, Sam," she greeted in return. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," I replied automatically. "How are you?"

"I'm managing," she answered, mouth twisting. She looked almost exactly like Jazz. "We're all just managing. It's getting better now that Jazz is stable. We're hoping she'll wake up soon."

"Everyone is," I said with a smile. "She'll probably be up before you know it."

"That's what we're hoping on. I have to go find Jack; sorry Sam."

"It's quite all right. I'm thinking of you, know that." I reached out and squeezed her hand.

Maddie placed her hand over mine. "You're such a sweet girl, Sam. I'm glad that Jazz has a friend like you, and that you were able to help Danny in school like you did."

"I'm glad I was able to help him. And Jazz has been a great friend to me; I just want to see her be all right."

"We all do," Maddie leaned forward and kissed my cheek. "If you're looking for the boys, I'd head for the kitchen."

"Not the buffet?" I asked, but she'd already moved away.

I returned to Gregor, who had respectfully stayed back while I had talked to Maddie.

"Maddie said Tucker might be in the kitchen. I'm going to go check. Are you coming?"

"Yes," Gregor kissed my cheek. "I want to stay by your side. After you chat with them, we should go for a dance."

"I think you might be able to talk me into that." I nudged his side. "Now, can you please lead me to the kitchen?"

"Scared you'll get lost?" He teased.

"That's _exactly_ what I'm afraid of. This is a big place."

"I know. I almost had Uncle Vlad draw me a map during my first night here," Gregor joked.

He took my hand and we weaved through crowds, heading to the kitchen. Before we arrived, however, I spotted Tucker. As he towered over everyone, he was easy to find in a crowd. He was leaning in a mostly-empty corner. I tugged Gregor toward him. As we grew closer, I saw the Tucker had Mikey on his left side and Danny on his right. I wondered if it would be awkward to bring Gregor into the social circle, but I wasn't about to abandon him. It didn't seem right. And I did want to spend some time with him through the course of the night.

"Hi, Tucker; Mikey," I greeted. I swallowed my hurt at the sight of Fenton's face and also said, "Hi, Fenton. I'm sorry about Jazz. I hope she gets better soon."

Fenton's already white face seemed to get paler. "She _will_," he growled, with a passion I couldn't understand.

"How are you holding up?" Gregor asked Fenton. "My sister was in a car accident when we were very young. I understand that it's hard."

"I'm fine," Fenton said shortly.

"Uh, we were about to go get some food," Tucker mentioned quickly. "Do you want to join us?"

I didn't blame him for trying to get out of the situation. The awkwardness of it was starting to affect me.

"Actually, Sam and I were about to dance." Gregor put a hand around my waist. The gesture felt possessive. "Unless you want to get something to eat, Sam."

"Sorry, Tuck. I'm not feeling very hungry right now. I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

"Cool," Tucker shrugged.

"Hey, Sam, save a dance for me?" Mikey asked. "It's been awhile since you almost stepped on my feet."

"Come find me after you eat your supper," I encouraged him.

"Sure thing."

I followed Gregor to the dance floor, which was more populated than I would have assumed. It was hard to get a grasp on how many people were in Vlad's house; they just seemed to be everywhere. Interestingly enough, though, I had yet to see the host. It wasn't something that I wasn't in a hurry to do, so I just left that thought alone.

The music that was playing was a slower-type dance. Gregor pulled me into his body, and I leaned into his warmth. It was nice to sway in someone's arms; to think about nothing but music and spinning. After finding out about Jazz, everything had been off-kilter in my world. Tucker and Mikey had been reaching to me for support, and while I'd been venting my feelings to Tara and Leslie, I felt like I had to be strong for Tucker and Mikey. They'd been closer to Jazz than I was – Tuck especially – and I felt like I had to be there for them.

I was never good with being strong; I simply wasn't. I hadn't been strong enough to fight for my own life when it really mattered that I do it. In the subsequent months, I'd been equally as weak. I'd clung to the little things – Mother, books, television shows, even cleaning my room – to distract me so I wouldn't think about killing myself again. I clung to the little sliver of light that was my mother trying so hard to keep me with her so that I didn't swallow more pills. I wasn't still alive because I was strong; I was still alive because I wouldn't even let myself think of it, knowing that the possibility of a repeat performance was very real.

I'd been using other people to keep me here. First Mother, and then Phantom. I had never been able to stand on my own two feet and it was terrifying to me that other people needed my support.

"What are you thinking about?" Gregor asked me, his voice low as he leaned to my ear.

"Jazz," I answered automatically.

"She'll be all right," Gregor comforted me.

"I hope so."

I hugged him tightly.

I still couldn't stand on my own.

**I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my betas: Forever Sky.**

**~TLL~**


	11. Chapter 11

"I'm going to go down to the auction," Gregor explained to me as I sipped my punch. "I bid on some items earlier and I think it's nearing the time they'll announce the winners."

"I'll go and find Mikey while you're downstairs then." I smiled warmly at him.

Gregor nodded but then, instead of turning to leave, he placed one hand on my waist and seductively drew me toward him. I leaned into his kiss, fully enjoying the feel of his lips to mine. He squeezed me tightly and then, daringly, he kissed my neck. Goosebumps broke out under his touch and I couldn't help but curl my shoulders up, releasing a shuddering breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"See you soon," Gregor whispered into my ear.

I swooned as he walked away; the tingling sensation was still lingering on my neck.

I didn't have time to think about that warm spot on my neck he'd kissed. Mikey approached me while Gregor's back was still in sight, leading me to the dance floor. I looped my arms around his neck and he placed his hands on my waist. Like the last time we danced, Mikey kept a respectful distance between the two of us.

"Been having a good night?" I asked him with a light smile on my face.

"It's been … stressful," Mikey sighed. "Danny's not handling anything. Tucker is trying to pretend like he's handling it better than he is because he doesn't want Danny to suspect anything."

"You know?" I asked, referencing Tucker and Jazz's relationship, surprise lit up my face.

Mikey managed a smile. "Yeah … I found out in the worst way."

I blushed. "Did you … That is, were they?"

Mikey shook his head. "But they were well on their way. I was dropping off a video game to Tuck. I just let myself in and went up to his room, because that's what I always do. Long story short, I haven't done that since."

"That's one way to teach unexpected visitors a lesson," I giggled.

Mikey rolled his eyes, muttering, "Understatement of the year."

We spun and then he asked, "How is it going with Gregor? Has he been treating you okay?"

"Absolutely. Gregor is great. Why? Have you been worrying about me?" I teased him.

"A little," he admitted, without shame.

"You're sweet," I told him, becoming distracted.

Mikey spun me faster, taking a look at what my gaze had locked on: a frantic looking Tucker. He was edging around the ballroom, inspecting the dancers, but he obviously wasn't finding who he was looking for. He looked paler than I had ever seen him; worse than the day he'd shown up at my house after Jazz's attack. I let go of one side of Mikey, though I kept one hand in his. Together, we wove across to the dance floor to Tucker's side.

"Have you seen Danny?" He demanded. His eyes were wild, darting from place to place and his stance was equally distressed. He looked utterly panicked.

I detected a crack in his voice.

Mikey shook his head. "I've been with Sam. The last time I saw Danny, he was with you."

I also shook my head. "Never registered on my radar, Tuck."

"We _have_ to find him," Tucker stressed. "We absolutely have to. I've already checked the kitchen but I didn't see him."

"I'll check the bathrooms," Mikey volunteered, and slipped away.

"Sam, please help us look. I know you don't want to see him but we must find him. I'm scared he's in danger."

"I'll help you," I promised him. "I'll go take a look along the buffet, okay? Then I'll go down to the auction."

Tucker nodded solemnly. "I'm … I'm going to go look around the rest of the house. Danny doesn't like Vlad so he might be snooping, or doing something dumb."

"Don't worry about him. We both know he can take good care of himself."

Tucker looked at me – his green eyes dark and serious. Something about the strength of his gaze was giving me chills. I rubbed at my arms, despite the heat of the house.

"Not this time, Sam." Tucker whispered.

Before I could ask him what he meant, Tucker had walked away, going off to search for his friend. His words haunted my mind. I found it unbelievable that something could scare or do some serious damage to Fenton. Thought I had tried to cut off all of thoughts of him, I couldn't help but let bits creep in. With those bits, came a sliver of fear, creeping into my heart. Tucker and I both knew what Fenton was capable of so there must be something truly terrifying creeping around in the night. Like I had promised my friend, I went to the buffet. I walked slowly down the line of food, taking in all of the people that surrounded the room. None of them, though, were Danny Fenton. I let out a breath, walking slowly. Truthfully, I didn't want to be the one to find him, because that meant that I would have to strike up a civil conversation with him and I didn't know if I could do that.

I left the buffet area and went headed down to the auction. At the very least, Gregor would be downstairs. Just the thought of him brought a small smile dancing to my lips. I had just carefully placed one of my heeled shoes down on the step when the very object of my thoughts appeared before me. No, not Fenton; Gregor.

"Hi there," he greeted me. He reached for my hand and kissed it; an unexpected move but not an unwelcome one. "Miss me too?"

I chuckled. "Not quite. I told Tucker I'd go looking for … Danny. Is he down there?"

Gregor shook his head. "No. And I was at the very back of the room. I would have seen him if he had come in."

"Tucker's worried. I don't know why though." I shook my head, letting my eyes drop to the floor.

"I'm sure Danny is fine," Gregor looped his fingers through mine. "Do you want to go out to the backyard with me?"

Instantly my eyes lit up, but I wavered. "I should go check myself. You know, just to make sure that he's not down there. Tucker was really upset."

"I promise you," Gregor purred in his accent, "That he's not down there. I would tell you if he were."

"I can trust that," I decided as I turned my thoughts to his previous offer. "You were saying something about outside?"

Gregor nodded. "Uncle Vlad prepared the backyard as well; he has an orchestra coming in later. I thought you might want to take a look at the backyard garden before it's overrun with people."

"I think that sounds lovely."

I took a tottering step backward. Gregor joined me on the main level and then he offered me his elbow. Feeling incredibly formal – what with the fancy dress and his form-fitting tux – I took his arm. We swept from the main area of the house and out into the backyard.

"Oh, it's so pretty," I gasped aloud.

Vlad had a small garden arranged near the door. It was large enough to accommodate several rows of chairs and room for an orchestra, with flowers surrounding it. I didn't know all the different kinds of flowers that he had planted but it all looked beautiful. I was immediately drawn to the roses; my favourite.

I left the step and immediately my heels sank into the rich grass. I toppled backward, and would have hit my head on the top step, were it not for Gregor's quick reflexes. He had me around the shoulders, so that I was leaning back and looking up at him.

"Looks like you really fell for me," he joked.

"Just grateful you decided to catch me," I returned with a smirk.

Gregor sat me down gently, so that I was now perched on the step. He dropped down next to me.

"I really enjoyed catching you," Gregor told me.

I slipped my feet from my heels, placing my bare soles on the slightly damp grass. I bounced to a standing position and cackled, "Catch me if you can!" I lifted my skirt so that I wouldn't trip on the hem of my dress and ran for the rose bushes. I could hear Gregor not far behind me; I focused on not tripping and falling flat on my face. It was likely I would fall, as uncoordinated as I tended to be. I could feel my heart thundering, whether it was from the running or from spending time with Gregor, I didn't know.

I could feel my now wet feet slipping on the blades of grass. I knew that I wasn't going to be upright much longer, and Gregor was coming up quick behind me anyway. There was a short stone bench in front of the rose bushes that I'd been eyeing. I dropped neatly onto the bench, grinning up at Gregor as he came to a stop in front of me.

"You're a minx," he teased.

"Who? Me?" I joked in response.

Gregor took a seat beside me on the stone bench, pressing his leg tightly against mine. He leaned over and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing him closer to me. His hands felt heavy on my waist as he wanted me even closer to him. I looped one of my legs over Gregor's, my knee creasing over his. When our breathing became laboured, I had to break away from him.

"You're beautiful," Gregor breathed.

"Thank you." I responded, snapping out of the daze he had so wonderfully placed me in.

"I won something, at the auction."

"What did you get?" I asked with a hint of curiosity in my eye.

"It's a necklace," Gregor revealed, digging in his jacket pocket. "I got it for you."

"Oh, Gregor," I said automatically. "You really didn't have to do that."

Even as I said it, I was already touched that he'd gone so far as to buy me a gift. Butterflies erupted within my stomach and happiness filled me as I thought, _This is what a real relationship is. This is what can really blossom into something beautiful._ My smile stretched my cheeks as I looked at him, realizing just how easy it was to fall for such a charming, wonderful man.

"It was for a good cause and I thought that it would look beautiful on you," Gregor explained, He popped open the jewellery box – it was a silver chain with a simple silver heart pendent on it.

"Thank you," I breathed. "It's lovely."

"I'll put it on," Gregor offered. "Just turn around."

I tilted so that I was facing the other direction. Then, I gathered my hair off the nape of my neck, revealing my bare back to him. Gregor slid the cold chain around my throat.

"The latch is being tricky," Gregor explained, as he'd been toying with the necklace for some time. "Forgive me."

"It's fine," I said with a small chuckle. "I know how tricky necklace latches can be."

As I was saying it, the necklace slipped from his grasp, toward the front of my dress. I reached up to grab it but froze when I realized Gregor's hands were in my view. Was he going to reach down my dress?

Horror crept up my face; everything from this moment onward seemed to happen incredibly slowly.

I couldn't decide on whether or not I should scream or hit him, it was here where I came to the realization that Gregor wasn't reaching for the front of my dress; wasn't going to grope around my chest for the necklace that he'd dropped. Instead, his hands were snaking around my throat. In a detached sort of way, I was wondering what he was doing; why he was putting his hands around my throat like he was going to commit some kind of violent act.

I didn't even think to scream before my world went black.

(-.-)

When I woke up, I didn't have typical thoughts like: why did he do that? Where am I? What happened?

No, the first thing I thought of when I came around was: _I was out much longer than I should have been._

I could tell, from the stiffness in my joints to the way my head was pounding, that I'd been given something to prolong the spell I was put under, longer than I would have been from someone putting their hands around my neck. I brought my fingers gently up to my throat, touching it in a detached sort of way. It felt positively normal.

But I could clearly remember how it felt to have hands around my neck. I was even more incredulous over the fact that it was Gregor who had done it. Why would he have done that?

The world 'betrayal' began to form in my mind, the feeling that I was experiencing now was a dampened version of when Fenton had told me he was half ghost. My heart lurched painfully at the comparison and a sick feeling formed in the pit of my stomach. I had fallen head over heels for Gregor, who had seemed like such a great person. I was at a loss. Was I really so unlucky when it came to love?

I shook my head to dispel my previous thoughts and I pried open my eyes, expecting to find Gregor there, but that wasn't what I saw at all. I was faced with a dark grey wall. I reached out and touched it, not believing it was real. But it was. There was a stone wall, real and unyielding under my fingertips.

Panic began to well up inside me. I slowly pushed myself to sit upright, ignoring both my headache and the dizzy feeling I had. In front of me, was more of the grey wall. I lurched to my feet and there was a heavy tugging on my ankle. I kicked backward, trying to frantically free myself from the weight but, rather, I was stopped by a chain. I'd been chained up.

I let out a cry and turned around, seeing first the bars of a cell. The scene was terrifying as I connected it to what I had seen of prisons. The connection to the familiar image shook me to the core. Second, I spotted my cellmate. A second prisoner, who was chained more seriously than I was.

Daniel Fenton.

He was staring at me, blue eyes sharp.

"Don't panic," he said softly.

I stared at him; trying to control my erratic breathing that was coming in short bursts through flared nostrils. I could feel my terror welling up in me. I knew what Fenton was capable of. I knew that he was deadlier than most things out there; hell, he could transform and fight ghosts, for goodness sake. If something had taken him down, I was in deep trouble.

"What happened?" I asked, feeling myself break down. Tremors had begun to plague my body.

Gregor's phantom hands dug into my neck again.

"Why?" I cried out, not sure if I was talking to Fenton or my memory.

"Fuck," Fenton swore. "I'm fuckin' sorry, Sam."

"And," I demanded, my eyes narrowing with accusations, "What the hell do you have to be sorry for?"

**I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my betas: Forever Sky.**

**~TLL~**


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